Bitter Love, A Violet With It's Crown

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

While I'm Writing, I'm Far Away; And When I Come Back, I've Gone.

Day-colored Wine, Night-colored Wine, Wine With Purple Feet Or Wine With Topaz Blood, Wine, Starry Child Of Earth.

White Bee, Even When You Are Gone You Buzz In My Soul You Live Again In Time, Slender And Silent.

Wakening From The Dreaming Forest There, The Hazel-sprig Sang Under My Tongue, Its Drifting Fragrance Climbed Up Through My Conscious Mind As If Suddenly The Roots I Had Left Behind Cried Out To Me, The Land I Had Lost With My Childhood - And I Stopped, Wounded By The Wandering Scent.