9
My thoughts, like sparks,
ride on winged surprises,
carrying a single laughter.
10
The tree gazes in love at its own beautiful shadow
which yet it never can grasp.
11
Let my love, like sunlight, surround you
and yet give you illumined freedom.
12
Days are coloured bubbles
that float upon the surface of fathomless night.
13
My offerings are too timid to claim your remembrance,
and therefore you may remember them.
14
Leave out my name from the gift
if it be a burden,
but keep my song.
15
April, like a child,
writes hieroglyphs on dust with flowers,
wipes them away and forgets.
16
Memory, the priestess,
kills the present
and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past.