The Force Of Passion Is Balanced By

If I Survive, I Will Spend My Whole Life At The Oven Door Seeing That No One Is Denied Bread And, So As To Give A Lesson Of Charity, Especially Those Who Did Not Bring Flour.

Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca, En Julio Como En Enero, Para El Amigo Sincero Que Me Da Su Mano Franca. Y Para El Cruel Que Me Arranca El Corazon Con Que Vivo, Cardo Ni Oruga Cultivo Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca. I Have A White Rose To Tend In July As In January; I Give It To The True Friend Who Offers His Frank Hand To Me. And To The Cruel One Whose Blows Break The Heart By Which I Live, Thistle Nor Thorn Do I Give: For Him, Too, I Have A White Rose.

Men Are Products, Expressions, Reflections; They Live To The Extent That They Coincide With Their Epoch, Or To The Extent That They Differ Markedly From It.

I Know That When The World Surrenders, Pallid, To Repose, The Murmur Of A Tranquil Stream Through The Deep Silence Flows.

My Poems Please The Brave: My Poems, Short And Sincere, Have The Force Of Steel Which Forges Swords.