Poets love intensely because they invent their love long before they live it. Their lover is an active fire that brews in the marrow of their soul. Their carnality is an animal ferocity softened, spiritualized and intensified by their imagination and longing. Poets are the animals of the soul.
With each epoch of our life
a music of a twilight colour plays
and like a golden bird at the turning of the seasons
it lays its warm farewell song over our heads,