Door of passage to the other side, the soul frees itself in stride.

Dying is a universe of its own. 

I regret to say I'munable to reply to your unexpressed desires.

Great is the hand that holds dominion over/Man by a scribbled name.

Hold your venomDo you recognise the instinctin me, fellow scorpion?

I blink January’s lashesand gush down December’s cheeks

Truth can never be told so as to be understood and not be believed.

Love's mysteries in souls do grow,But yet the body is his book.

In pale moonlight / the wisteria's scent / comes from far away.

I have no riches but my thoughts, Yet these are wealth enough for me

Poetry is a naked woman, a naked man, and the distance between them.

You bend the nailBut keep hammering becauseHammering makes the world

Love's language is imprecise,fits more like mittens than gloves.

efore the gate --my walking stick's made a riverof melting snow

Porque a volar no se aprende solo, pero a caer no se aprende nunca.