In the Arab gardens of Sicily water guides you to paradise and order to hypocrisy.

Only in this sun can you weigh the shadow of a pomegranate to the ripeness within.

The Christian mosaics are the skies inside Palermo. Once there was a miracle. An evil monk was struck in the head and killed by a small piece of heaven.

Why are there so many miserable old men holding on to poetic reputations?

As for my own poems, they will return to the earth…

A King risks assassination if he doesn’t, in some instances, allow himself to appear easily persuaded.

Deeds should be the leaves of a beautiful world and words the fruits of a life worth living.