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"Tonight I can write the saddest lines.To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.To hear the immense night, still more immense without her,And the verse falls to the snow like dew to the pasture."
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"I get a little poetic sometimes. The moonlight does that to me."
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"And here, in thought, to thee-In thought that can alone, Ascend thy empire and so be A partner of thy throne, By winged Fantasy, My embassy is given, Till secrecy shall knowledge be In the environs of Heaven."
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"None but a poet can write a tragedy. For tragedy is nothing less than pain transmuted into exaltation by the alchemy of poetry."
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"Every poet has his dream reader: mine keeps a look out for curious prosodic fauna like bacchics and choriambs."
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"That men, who might have tower'd in the vanOf all the congregated world, to fanAnd winnow from the coming step of timeAll chaff of custom, wipe away all slimeLeft by men-slugs and human serpentry,Have been content to let occasion die,Whilst they did sleep in love's Elysium."
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"My heart ist melting, I love you, Drops of Gold."
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"True poetry is the fragrance of the heart in the house of peace."
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"The drama is complete poetry. The ode and the epic contain it only in germ; it contains both of them in a state of high development, and epitomizes both."
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"You should be more carefulwhen you move, my dearwhat with you...spilling moonlightinto my poem, with a mereflick of your hand."
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"Poetry. i am not writing it.(make way for me please)it is my skin. dripping with light."
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"Every day you play with the light of the universe."
Wonder
"Tonight I can write the saddest lines.To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.To hear the immense night, still more immense without her,And the verse falls to the snow like dew to the pasture."
Poetry
"Donde termina el arco iris,en tu alma o en el horizonte?Where does the rainbow end,in your soul or on the horizon?"
Wonder
"Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way."
Revelation
"Por que en las epocas oscurasse escribe con tinta invisible?Why in the darkest agesdo they write with invisible ink?"
Darkness
"I had no more alphabetthan the journeying of the swallows,the pure and tiny waterof the small, fiery birdthat dances rising from the pollen."
Art
"Tonight I can write the saddest linesI loved her, and sometimes she loved me too."
Love
"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."
Union
"You know how this is:if I lookat the crystal moon, at the red branchof the slow autumn at my window,if I touchnear the firethe impalpable ashor the wrinkled body of the log,everything carries me to you,as if everything that exists,aromas, light, metals,were little boatsthat sailtoward those isles of yours that wait for me."
Longing
"Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad netstowards your oceanic eyes.There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,its arms turning like a drowning man's.I send out red signals across your absent eyesthat smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.You keep only darkness, my distant female,from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad netsto that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.The birds of night peck at the first starsthat flash like my soul when I love you.The night gallops on its shadowy mareshedding blue tassels over the land."
Poetry
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