HOW OFTEN

It is easy to kiss a flower or travel far toward love on a long night? And it's easy to sing in the evening when the wind caresses your cheeks like a butterfly dancing among the trees. Oh, how the trees love to touch the face of the river. How often do your shadows tell me about walking among the colorful paths, and that it's something that delights the heart, perhaps one day I'll find a thread or a hand pointing to you. How often do I remember the features of your face on mornings caressed by the breeze? How often have I been dazzled by its captivating fragrance? How often have I drawn with your shadows an embrace and a kiss like strange travelers who have come from afar. They spend the night among the hills, their eyes only smiling between unforgettable waterfalls.

My breath is as hot as Indian pepper, and from my voice fiery chants flies. In my heart are destructive storms, but my eyes are elegant and furnished, from which flow raging streams whose water never runs dry towards you. My dreams are so deep and delicate; for I live in my deadly longing for you. How do you want my heart to have a roaring water that calmly irrigates everything?
I feel your warm voice touching my depths so strongly, but your elegant fingers write nothing. Thus, under the weight of silence, I always try to stand in the middle of the road and whisper in a soft voice in the ear of the days, hoping you feel the warmth of my touch on a green leaf that reminds me of your eyes.

I WANT TO WRITE TO YOU

This is how I want to rest a little, to get away from everything and everyone. I feel like I want to rest a little, and write only to you. Your beautiful presence is enough for me.
In the midst of my silence and this vast space, I find myself knowing nothing, wanting nothing, or searching for anything other than you.
I feel like I need to write to you. I will spend long hours writing to you, long days writing to you, and long years writing to you. This is a covenant and a celebration.

YOUR EYES ARE A LOVE SONG
Your words are smiling roses, like a radiant wedding night. Your heart is filled with soft lights that gently illuminate the place. In your hands are baskets of love that sway like small, moist branches amidst hearts and valleys, so that the paths overflow with love. When you draw longing in eyes and send sweet shards of love to the ends of the earth, the valleys fill with gazelles, and the rivers overflow with a radiant joy that my eyes cannot see, but my heart feels it strongly because your eyes are a love song in which I am lost.

WITHOUT YOU
Without you, I no longer have the desire to swim in the wide river, because it reminds me of your stories. I no longer have the desire to walk among the palm trees and grapes, because they remind me of your smile. I no longer have the desire to talk, because it reminds me of your captivating voice.
Without you, my fingers are faint in the wind, the wind that made them pale like my soul. How could this happen? How could I forget? It is part of me, part of my heart that melts in the midst of a strange longing, in the midst of a strange nostalgia.
Without you, the air is not sweet to caress my glasses, and astonishment is the daughter of your barren absence. There is only a dry shadow, and you know that nothing remains of me but faint dreams. Yes, my soul is faint, and my heart is stolen.
Without you, I am a stranger on this earth, stealing the sweetest laugh from time. In my pocket, there is nothing but loss. I am not worthy of this life, I look with joy at the pictures of my memory, and smile with sadness.

WILD NIGHT
For a long time, I have been sailing in my hat, hiding behind a wild night, its strange rains touching my dewy skin, so I go out into the middle of the field, a breeze scattered here and there like old village houses. On that wild night, I catch my breath to drown in a delicate smile like a lily that does not care about the sun or eternity, for the night is a captivating life and a legendary promise of everything wonderful. Yes, it is a night that overflows with joy from its windows, and despite its calm, it has alleys that expand to glowing colors. Its stars have left an eternal mark on my dream, so I began to fade in the place like a free traveler who knows nothing about coldness, for freedom does not know sleepy lips, but rather beauty must begin to shine in her eyes, and if it were not for the fact that I do not know much about what goes on in this wild night, I would have been a unique flower exuding an unrepeatable passion.

I wonder if you'd allow me to call you "my dear"? To be a star that no other star can approach. And of all the flowers, all the eyes, all the smiles, you alone are my dear.
I wonder if you'd like me to call you "my dear," and to rejoice in your eyes, shining like green lapis lazuli, illuminating the sky like a flock of birds and dreaming butterflies.
I wonder if you'd be happy for me to call you "my dear," to chant your name by all the names, and to live in your light after a long, strange darkness.