To Love Is To Tilt With The

I Am Made Of Earth, And My Song Made Of Words.

Where Were You Then? Who Else Was There? Saying What? Why Will The Whole Of Love Come On Me Suddenly When I Am Sad And Feel You Are Far Away?

And One By One The Nights Between Our Separated Cities Are Joined To The Night That Unites Us.

He Who Has Nothing—it Has Been Said Many Times—has Nothing To Lose But His Chains.

Sometimes A Piece Of Sun Burned Like A Coin In My Hand.