In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem

If You Wish Mercy, Show Mercy To The Weak.

The Ocean Of The Body Crashes Against The Ocean Of The Heart. Between Them Is A Barrier They Cannot Cross.

O, Happy The Soul That Saw Its Own Faults.

When It's Cold And Raining,you Are More Beautiful.and The Snow Brings Meeven Closer To Your Lipsthe Inner Secret, That Which Was Never Born,you Are That Freshness, And I Am With You Now.i Can't Explain The Goings,or The Comings. You Enter Suddenly,and I Am Nowhere Again.inside The Majesty

The Meaning Of Poetry Has No Sureness Of Direction; Is Like The Sling, It Is Not Under Control.