Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.

first of all nothing will happen and a little laternothing will happen again

Show me slowly what I onlyknow the limits ofDance me to the end of love

Deprivation is the mother of poetry.

At first first nothing will happen to usand later on it will happen to us again.

so much of the world is plunged in darkness and chaos...So ring the bells that still can ringForget your perfect offeringThere is a crack in everythingThat’s how the light gets in.

Who could have foretoldthe heart grows oldfrom touching others

It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was areal mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was butone mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed andchanged into itself over and over.

I heard of a manwho says words so beautifullythat if he only speaks their namewomen give themselves to him.If I am dumb beside your bodywhile silence blossoms like tumors on our lipsit is because I hear a man climb stairsand clear his throat outside our door.