It’s not easy to write a poem about a poem.
Hope without love is hopeless.
Wherever there is somebody else, a war is not far away.
There can be no forced inspiration.
Either all lights are turned off or one inner light is missing.
Even if you are alone you wage war with yourself.
What we call life is only talk of nature.
A big desire is not enough to meet the expectations of lost dreams
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.
God is a cloud from which rain fell.