Behind All This, Some Great Happiness Is

There Are Two Languages: One As Things Seem To Us And The Other Of Knowledge.

The Reason A Poet Is A Poet Is To Write Poems, Not To Advertise Himself As A Poet.

Love Is Like A Reservoir Of Kindness And Pleasure, Like Silos And Pools During A Siege.

I Wanted To Be Calm, Like A Mound With All Its Cities Destroyed, And Tranquil, Like A Full Cemetery.

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.