Megaphone In Which The Wind Passes Singing.

I Will Bring You Flowers From The Mountains, Bluebells, Dark Hazels, And Rustic Baskets Of Kisses. I Want To Do With You What Spring Does With The Cherry Trees.

For Now I Ask No More Than The Justice Of Eating.

Like Them You Are Tall And Taciturn, And You Are Sad, All At Once, Like A Voyage.

My Feet Will Want To Walk To Where You Are Sleeping But I Shall Go On Living.

When I Sleep Every Night, What Am I Called Or Not Called? And When I Wake, Who Am I If I Was Not I While I Slept?