I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees.
You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep spring from coming.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said.
You can only understand life backwards, but you must live it forwards.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate then when I fall asleep your eyes close.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries hidden within itself the light of those flowers, and thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I love you like the plant that never blooms yet carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.
I love you as the water loves the sea.
We must learn to love, not just the beautiful but also the squalid and the sad.
I love you between shadow and soul. I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries the light of hidden flowers within itself.
To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that leads our life.
Maybe love is just passing moments on a rainy day.
Love is when you sit beside someone, doing nothing, yet you feel perfectly happy.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
How much I loved you, you never knew. I was like a moon silenced by all that voracious light.
No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go, we will go together, over the waters of time. No one else will travel through the shadows with me, only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.
As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
I like you calm, as if you were absent.
Love is when you sit beside someone doing nothing, yet you feel perfectly happy.
In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.
Poetry is an act of peace.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.
I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.”
Someday, somewhere – anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.
There is no insurmountable solitude. All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song.
To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
Love is when you sit beside someone doing nothing yet you feel perfectly happy.
I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body.
Only by choosing yourself first can you truly find love.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
Love is a journey that begins at forever and ends at never.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Love is when you sit beside someone doing nothing yet you feel perfectly happy.
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