Wednesday, April 20, 2011
I remember a dark arm after a being of favours,
He was one who owned no common soul;
This food of pride kept the world revolving,
Against all enemies prepared.
In solitude a soul has been sustained,
Then the soul would gaze for unfruitful life;
For so it thought, at a distant scene,
Of a young imagination in the sky.
Now, in this harmonious beginning
I complain with my soul so that I think
A rest is achieved and never demanded,
Over the mountains we echo the images of the soul.