The poet is he who inspires, rather than he who is inspired.

She is standing on my lids And her hair is in my hair She has the colour of my eye She has the body of my hand In my shade she is engulfed As a stone against the sky She will never close her eyes And she does not let me sleep And her dreams in the bright day Make the suns evaporate And me laugh cry and laugh Speak when I have nothing to say

The curve of your eyes goes around my heart, A round of dance and sweetness, Halo of time, nocturnal and safe cradle, And if I don't know any more all that I've lived through It's because I haven't always been seen by you.

We want to be, when we are young, A little man. I would like to be a big child, Stronger and fairer than a man, And more lucid than a child.

Elephants are contagious.