The Hearts Of The Great Can Be

Come Then, Put Away Your Sword In Its Sheath, And Let Us Two Go Up Into My Bed So That, Lying Together In The Bed Of Love, We May Then Have Faith And Trust In Each Other.

Tell Me, O Muse, Of That Ingenious Hero Who Travelled Far And Wide After He Had Sacked The Famous Town Of Troy.

Anger, Which, Far Sweeter Than Trickling Drops Of Honey, Rises In The Bosom Of A Man Like Smoke.

I Long For Home, Long For The Sight Of Home.

I'll Get Out Of This City Alive, Even If It Kills Me!