Perhaps The Same Bird Echoed

I Think Of You Often, Dear, And With Such Concentrated Wishes That It Really Must Help You In Some Way.

Go On Loving What Is Good, Simple, And Ordinary.

You, Darkness, Of Whom I Am Born- I Love You More Than The Flame That Limits The World To The Circle It Illumines And Excludes The Rest.

This Is The Miracle That Happens Every Time To Those Who Really Love: The More They Give, The More They Possess.

Huge Lemons, Cut In Slices, Would Sink Like Setting Suns Into The Dusky Sea, Softly Illuminating It With Their Radiating Membranes, And Its Clear, Smooth Surface Aquiver From The Rising Bitter Essence.