I Am A Book Of Snow, A

He Who Has Nothing—it Has Been Said Many Times—has Nothing To Lose But His Chains.

She Did Not Speak For Speech Was Unknown To Her.

I Have Forgotten Your Love, Yet I Seem To Glimpse You In Every Window.

Oh, May Your Silhouette Never Dissolve On The Beach; May Your Eyelids Never Flutter Into The Empty Distance. Don't Leave Me For A Second, My Dearest.

And What Has Become Of It, Where Is That Onetime Love? Now It Is The Grave Of A Bird, A Drop Of Black Quartz, A Chunk Of Wood Eroded By The Rain.