In The House Of Lovers, The Music

Open Your Arms If You Want The Beloved's Embrace.

O Tongue You Are An Endless Treasure. O Tongue, You Are Also An Endless Disease.

Each Moment From All Sides Rushes To Us The Call To Love. We Are Running To Contemplate Its Vast Green Field. Do You Want To Come With Us?

Listen To The Sound Of Waves Within You.

There Is An Unseen Sweetness In The Stomach’s Emptiness. We Are Lutes. When The Sound Box Is Filled, No Music Can Come Forth. When The Brain And The Belly Burn From Fasting, Every Moment A New Song Rises Out Of The Fire. The Mists Clear, And A New Vitality Makes You Spring Up The Steps Before You . . .