Xuân Diệu

"To be a poet is to be lulled by the wind, To follow the moon in dreams, and drift with the clouds."

"At break of day I feel as if I'm clasping a bouquet of smiling flowers But the wind of time does not cease blowing And the hours wilt like falling petals."

"Love is just a little bit of death in the heart, For how often can one love in certainty that love will be returned? Giving so much love, and receiving so little of it; Because people are fickle, or indifferent? Who knows? During moments together as in hours apart, I'm mindful that the moon fades, flowers wither, souls pass away... They wander lost in the somber darkness of sorrow, Those fools who follow the footprints of love. Because life is an endless desert, And love is an entangling web. Love is just a little bit of death in the heart."

"But alas, I'm going to die! I'm a chap who...clings to life with the fingernails of both hands. One who drinks of love till it overflows his lips, But alas, I'm going to die... The other night I sat alone in agony, Listening to the hours pass, wracked with sorrow... I have arrived to face the cold border of nihility."

"I am a bird from mountains you don't know. My throat feels itchy—so I start to chirp when sings the morning wind among the leaves, when dreams the moon at midnight in the blue. Perched on a branch, the bird longs for its brook— it will break into song and not know why. Its ditties cannot make the fruits grow ripe; its carols cannot help the flowers bloom. It's profitless to sing, and yet the bird will burst its throat and heart to sing its best."