• I have loved being in love;
    perhaps that's why it has not loved me.
    That's how a handsome lover
    behaves with a lovestruck child.
    I've loved the sun too much
    and fed up with begging
    to the doors of the days
    I've become like the frond of a fern
    that prefers to live in the shade
    rather than bare the sun.
    And so I trouble myself about a house
    in which lamp- and sunlight
    have been tempered for the eyes
    and where the sober lines of a face
    and where the serenity of a friendship stand
    as the shadow of a tree
    arched
    above my head.