I have happily walked through your poems`s spring:
And many times,a sensible heart sounded
Like a queen-violin;and many times,a king
Among the newest impetuous verse surely was crowned:
In the place with stalactites and stalagmites,the dreams` voice resounded;
And certainly yours keeps its face in the sunshine ready to be beyond the praise.
With air hands ,I touch the season white,with your name rebounded.
Unforgettable one in the lasting generous heaven lays
And the poets` realm with much honor you raise.
You know: the bits of heart ,the life`s syllogism disobeys;
Tender is the night in which,the candles are brought
For more light.To each I tell the same and especially to thee:
No sweetest rest,no pleasure work can be.
(Especially to my first reader ,Peggy Bertrand this spontaneous attempt to fill
these empty moments with myself and my gratitude.)