“I must have been a poet,
that might justify
the high sensibility drifted apart.
But then, I ask myself:
“What is a poet
without his voice of happiness?”
“What is a poet
when his sensibility
is found in nothing
but fatal solitude and deep melancholy?!”
My beliefs pour into unfounded questions
of my soul's floated songs.

(Excerpted from Tears of pain, chapter Pain)”