Ignorance might be bliss. But self-forgetfulness is pure ecstasy.

Where were you when I undressed and told the tales of my day?Where were youwhenI was silent with God in prandial pray?Where were youwhen I recited love poems as I lay?Where were you?

All you need to get by in this world is the memory of love

I don’t want to be remembered for my work. I want to be remembered for my love.

Gone are the summer daysand my mind along with them.No longer will I indulgein hopes of getting you back.It is hope that makes these chains heavierand autumnal nights longer.I will merely serve as a memory to you:the lover that recited love poems.I must go nowand I urge you not to look back.