I saw my muse reincarnated from the pile of elegies beneath the cliff of terror,
Hunting the shade of shadow the shed of calamatious love,
Fissured eyes and blind skies and that's how the time ripples on the wall of grief,
And leans gently on my magnificent cuts.

I saw him seeking reflection of pride and dignity on the frozen lake of February,
Ambling through the homeland of exiled,
And...