It Was Not An Adventure;

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.

Love Is Like A Reservoir Of Kindness And Pleasure, Like Silos And Pools During A Siege.

Every Intelligent Person, Whether Hes An Artist Or Not - A Mathematician, A Doctor, A Scientist - Possesses A Poetic Way Of Seeing And Describing The World.

Even If A Poet Writes About Sitting In A Glass House Drinking Tea, It Reflects Politics.

Here (jerusalem), Tears Do Not Weaken The Eyes, They Only Polish And Shine The Hardness Of Faces Like Stone.