A tender knocking at my jalousie
O' all the foreigners the Wayfarer
Returned myself to the greenest sea
Of your eyes, worthy fire bearer.
Of lovers' troubles for long awaiting,
Such that Philanthropist's pyre
No longer spoiled, but always shining,
Oh, illuminated sisters dire.
Standing at the centre of the big screen
Emptiness prescribing at a glance
With attentive look never seen,
That all of 'ur minds started to dance
This humble lines a neophyte
Writes to accompany you till night.
