Veil lifts in twilight—
gypsys dance reddening in...

Feel the losers’ pain,
it will soften your own loss...

A tear has an existence of its own—
salted from deep seas...

What wounds you inflict upon this heart—
yet you do not know...

Have you ever drunk
from the goblet of yourself...

An Old Poem
After forty-eight hours...

If loneliness were a flower,
it would bloom—only to fade...

You, only you
not others...

The horizon is glorious—
unbroken, when your beauty...

We do not need religion;
we have God...

Our countenances—
nothing but impressions...

To my little niece
I miss you from the bottom of my heart...