My God, I Have Come With The

The Bride, The White Bride Today A Maiden, Tomorrow A Wife.

What Shall I Say About Poetry? What Shall I Say About Those Clouds, Or About The Sky? Look; Look At Them; Look At It! And Nothing More. Don't You Understand Anything About Poetry? Leave That To The Critics And The Professors. For Neither You, Nor I, Nor Any Poet Knows What Poetry Is.

A Dead Man In Spain Is More Alive Than A Dead Man Anywhere In The World.

The Important Thing In Life Is To Let The Years Carry Us Along.

Never Let Me Lose The Marvel Of Your Statue-like Eyes, Or The Accent The Solitary Rose Of Your Breath Places On My Cheek At Night. I Am Afraid Of Being, On This Shore, A Branchless Trunk, And What I Most Regret Is Having No Flower, Pulp, Or Clay For The Worm Of My Despair. If You Are My Hidden Treasure, If You Are My Cross, My Dampened Pain, If I Am A Dog, And You Alone My Master, Never Let Me Lose What I Have Gained, And Adorn The Branches Of Your River With Leaves Of My Estranged Autumn.