November rain
You love me so much that even your dream
dreams about me, fictionalizing a minor acute
of your philosophy, pampered paradoxically
with the structural capacity of your longings,
while the art of November rain fulfills desires.
mille fois
i am the sky of the skies above all the skies, bearing the sun of the sun of all the suns, and the moon of the moon of all the moons i am the world of the worlds of all the worlds, bearing the star of the stars of all the stars, and the dream of the dream of all the dreams i am the wish of the wish of all the wishes, bearing the night of the night of all the nights, and the day of the days of all the days i am the love of the love of all the loves, bearing the color of the colors of all the colors, and the joy of the joys of all the joys i am the very best of the best of all the best, for i am the i of myself of all the i of the selves of i, crème de la crème of all the crème de la crème (je suis mille fois un trait distinctif traduite), while a thousand times is not enough for what i am for any sky, any world, any wish, any love, inculcated