When the simplest is difficult, breathing for example and the difficult becomes simple, poetry for example

How does one explain such a state? Both love and lounging are so close, the twin heads of a janus night.

The moon hangs in the horizon and everything below is illuminated. Perhaps then this heart lies in deep shadows.

And I ask it, "Who has wounded you, my friend?" The reply: "None so far this night. Where is she, where is the beloved assasin with her cool and quick knife?"