The Darkness Of A Day Elapsed, Of

The Ardent Hymn That Unites Peoples.

Hour Of Nostalgia, Hour Of Happiness, Hour Of Solitude.

And I Watch My Words From A Long Way Off. They Are More Yours Than Mine. They Climb On My Old Suffering Like Ivy.

When Did The Lemons Learn The Same Creed As The Sun?

On Our Earth, Before Writing Was Invented, Before The Printing Press Was Invented, Poetry Flourished. That Is Why We Know That Poetry Is Like Bread; It Should Be Shared By All, By Scholars And By Peasants, By All Our Vast, Incredible, Extraordinary Family Of Humanity.