I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

I was dead river,
No water left in my course.
Greens turned grey,
Sky looked far away.
I looked up every day,
Hoping it would rain soon.
I lied thirsty under the burning Sun.
Then like a sudden rain...
You came into my life.
And I again felt alive.
You turned me into a river...
That dances with storms,
Sings with thunders.
You made me beautiful.

my heart say "write about love and pain"
my mind says "write about logic''
my peers say "write about something cool"
my parents say "write about discipline"
my school says "write about knowlege"
my friends say "write about whatever"*

my hand says "just write"

A poet is a nightingale
Who sits in darkness in the wood

He sings to cheer his solitude
With sweet sounds noone's ever heard




"In His Land of Dreams"