She makes me happy
With distance this long...

A woman of beautiful mind is always surrounded by...
respect follows her wherever she goes...

The bottom of things is neither life nor death.
My proof is...

Take the key, bus leaves at your right
the bag is packed...

A soul,
so beat to its foul...

The disbrief of the stars
Comes down to establish an unbalanced heretical...

The emptiness of the day condenses into a point...
The fullness of the day condenses into a minute...

For a moment the eyes of the living met the eyes...
And they did not strike like fists nor dent the...

Seasons had passed, but still she held on
but no more should she...

She is my inner voice
my utmost warmth...

I didn't have to write
or say what is right...

Should I write or sing,
the melancholy of my days...