Have I had two roads, I would have chosen their third.
I am from there. I am from here. I am not there and I am not here. I have two names, which meet and part, and I have two languages. I forget which of them I dream in.
If the Olive Trees knew the hands that planted them, Their Oil would become Tears.
The days have taught you not to trust happiness because it hurts when it deceives.
My love, I fear the silence of your hands.
We are captives, even if our wheat grows over the fences/ and swallows rise from our broken chains./ We are captives of what we love, what we desire, and what we are.
Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.