It's dark.
It's lightning.
It's thundering.
Yet the shower of love upon me.
I'm wet.
I'm afraid.
Of drowning.

-

Life is beautiful and dark,
together,
like the sky.

-

Can I love someone,
And hate others?
Can I be not loved,
And hate myself?
Can I love all,
And still be hated?
Can I love just one?
Can I love?
Can I hate?
Have I lost either,
In love and hate?

-

What's fear?
Where does it hide-
In the darkness or the light?
In the mind or the heart?
In the blood or the sweat?
Ah, who knows the secret?
But he lurks and scares,
he mocks and laughs.
I lend him my ears
and he's quiet as dead,
I give him my eyes,
and he vanishes into the space,
like a shadow.

-

The water flows with the wind,
the ferry waits on the shore,
the tree sways in the melody—
everything mingles with life.
But why such ecstasy?
That pierces my heart,
and leaves.
To bleed and dry,
in darkness.

-

What is in me that's lonely?
What's in me that's quiet?
What's in me that's sober?
What's in me that's untouched?
Ah, what's in me that's life
if my eyes, my mind, my heart—
look, think and feel, not for you,
my mother?

-

When you advise somebody,
you explain your own mistakes in truth.

-

A flower doesn't bring spring alone,
but indeed, carries its fragrance.

-

I often feel the need to read as much as possible
in order to see how worse I write,
and foresee how better I can do.

-

A writer is not separate from a reader,
for the book binds the two bodies together,
into one soul.

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