Must I talk before you listen?
The heart is a star that does not glisten.
Are there any loving hearts left?
It seems that all of them have built a cleft.
The heart is not a head,
It does not think beneath a dread.
The heart cannot but fade,
It is not a bed to be made and remade.
Emotions are dried leaves tossed by the wind,
Lust is a goat that has been skinned.
One cannot do without one.
No one can ever his shadow outrun.