We Are Tasting The Taste Of Eternity

In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem To Sleep Work Covertly, Preparing For Their Spring.

We Can't Help Being Thirsty, Moving Toward The Voice Of Water.

The Soul: A Wide Listening Sky With Thousands Of Candles.

A Thousand Half-loves Must Be Forsaken To Take One Whole Heart Home.

Oh, Bird Of My Soul, Fly Away Now, For I Possess A Hundred Fortified Towers.