In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem

Bitter Your Acts, Bitter Am I, Kindness Your Deeds, Kindness Am I, Pleasant And Gentle, So You Are, Fine Honeyed Lips And Sweet Talker.

War, Like Children's Fights, Are Meaningless, Pitiless, And Contemptible.

From Myself I Am Copper, Through You, Friend, I Am Gold. From Myself I’m A Stone, But Through You, I Am A Gem!

Feel The Delight Of Walking In The Noisy Street And Being The Noise.

I Grow Silent. Dear Soul, You Speak.