I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Come see the cherry trees of a water constellation
and the round key of the rapid universe,
come touch the fire of instantaneous blue,
come before its petals are consumed.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.

At night I dream that you and I are two plants
that grew together, roots entwined,
and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth,
since we are made of earth and rain.

A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.

I never see that prettiest thing-
A cherry bough gone white with Spring-
But what I think, "How gay 'twould be
To hang me from a flowering tree.