The Poet Is He Who Inspires, Rather

I Cannot Be Known Better Than You Know Me Your Eyes In Which We Sleep We Together Have Made For My Man’s Gleam A Better Fate Than For The Common Nights Your Eyes In Which I Travel Have Given To Signs Along The Roads A Meaning Alien To The Earth In Your Eyes Who Reveal To Us Our Endless Solitude Are No Longer What They Thought Themselves To Be You Cannot Be Known Better Than I Know You.

Your Eyes In Which I Travel Have Given To Signs Along The Roads A Meaning Alien To The Earth.

Even When We Sleep We Watch Over One Another.

All My Desires Are Born Of My Dreams. And I Have Proven My Love With Words. To What Fantastic Creatures Have I Entrusted Myself, In What Dolorous And Ravishing World Has My Imagination Enclosed Me? I Am Sure Of Having Been Loved In The Most Mysterious Of Domains, My Own. The Language Of My Love Does Not Belong To Human Language, My Human Body Does Not Touch The Flesh Of My Love. My Amorous Imagination Has Always Been Constant And High Enough So That Nothing Could Attempt To Convince Me Of Error.

The Poet Is He Who Inspires, Rather Than He Who Is Inspired.