Death is only the stone of oblivion.
But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.
But from each crime are born bullets that will one day seek out in you where the heart lie.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.
And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy.