Like you I love love, life, the sweet smell of things,
the sky-blue landscape of January days.
And my blood boils up and I laugh through eyes that have known the buds of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.
And that my veins don’t end in me but in the unanimous blood of those who struggle for life, love, little things, landscape and bread, the poetry of everyone.