The Ardent Hymn That Unites

Shyness Is A Condition Foreign To The Heart - A Category, A Dimension Which Leads To Loneliness.

Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines...though This Be The Last Pain That She Makes Me Suffer And These The Last Verses That I Write For Her.

The Night Is Shattered, And The Blue Stars Shiver In The Distance.

I Grew Up In This Town, My Poetry Was Born Between The Hill And The River, It Took Its Voice From The Rain, And Like The Timber, It Steeped Itself In The Forests.

Only Do Not Forget, If I Wake Up Crying It's Only Because In My Dream I'm A Lost Child Hunting Through The Leaves Of The Night For Your Hands.