Before the first before and after the last after, there is night waiting.

Serious affairs and history are carefully laid snares for the uninformed.

There is no born lover, There is no born Don Juan, For we are all lovers.

It is easy to see the glow but hard to recognize the awakening of silence.

Will the day tell its secret Before it disappears, Becomes timeless night.

To come to nothing through something is the way to outside from both sides.

Although personal calling I sense,Who am I? even if I am, I don't know.

Life into death— Life’s other shape, No rupture, Only crossing.

It is futile to spend time telling stories about the fleetness of each day.

A breeze, a forgotten summer, a smile, all can fit into a storefront window.

After Homer and Dante, is a whole century of creating worth one Shakespeare?

Long ago an uncalled rain fell and a called-upon God stayed equally distant.

I imagined I was God for a millisecond And became speechless for a long time.

When I want to be reminded of stupidity, especially my own, I turn on the TV.

Different languages, the same thoughts; servant to thoughts and their masters.