Such are lovers more than grace can seem

The pictures of the immaculate

Even their heaven bows to this earth



The fairest, beautiful and withered

Not even nature's own shapes can imagine

Shameless and splendid with youth

The winds now blow with feathers

And tomorrow I wer them



How the trees bow to subtlety

And eden has fathered their souls

Savour the nights for rain

Your impetus has left me shapeless

Beat the passion and carve me in sand



Wondrous skills, fountains of the tomorrow

A journey for dead lovers as even grief was sorry

My smiles leap through the ashes (and touching with pain)

I touch with pain

Such a poetry I have answered desire

And as ever the innocent sleep within

Temptation lays to beating hands