But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.

And that's why i have to go back to so many places there to find myself and constantly examine myself with no witness but the moon and then whistle with joy, ambling over rocks and clods of earth, with no task but to live, with no family but the road.

I say love, and the world populates itself with doves.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.

I should like to sleep like a cat, with all the fur of time, with a tongue rough as flint, with the dry sex of fire; and after speaking to no one, stretch myself over the world, over roofs and landscapes, with a passionate desire to hunt the rats in my dreams.