“Cuando mi voz calle con la muerte, mi corazón te seguirá hablando".”

“Ne vem, iz kakšnega daljnega časa mi prihajaš čedalje bolj naproti. Tvoje sonce in zvezde te ne morejo za zmeraj skriti pred menoj. Marsikakšno jutro in večer je bilo slišati tvoje stopnje in tvoj sel je prišel v moje srce in me skrivaj poklical.Ne vem, zakaj je danes moje življenje tako nemirno in mi srce prešinja občutek trepetajočega veselja. Kakor da prihaja čas, ko naj končam svoje delo, in v zraku čutim rahel duh tvoje blage navzočnosti.”

“If no one responds to your call, then go your own way alone.”

“Where are those tears in your eyes, my child? How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing! You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing-is that why they call you dirty? O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty becauseit has smudged its face with ink? For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They areready to find fault for nothing. You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they call youuntidy? O, fie! What would they call an autumn morning that smilesthrough its ragged clouds? Take no heed of what they say to you, my child. They make a long list of your misdeeds. Everybody knows how you love sweet things-is that why theycall you greedy? O, fie! What then would they call us who love you?”

“Travolti dal torrente dell'incertezza, i nostri sogni hanno teso le bracciaPer afferrare la terra.In mattoni e pietra si irrigidisconoi loro sogni e così sono state costruitele città dell'uomo.”

“I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of such omissions.They come with their laws and their codes to bind me fast; but Ievade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give myself up atlast into his hands.People blame me and call me heedless; I doubt not they are rightin their blame.The market day is over and work is all done for the busy. Thosewho came to call me in vain have gone back in anger. I am onlywaiting for love to give myself up at last into his hands.”

“I AM RESTLESS AM restless. I am athirst for far-away things.My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore. I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the winged horse. I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.In the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine takes shape in the blue of the sky!O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone!”