. . . be absolute moderne.

And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.

I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent

Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.

And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! - But the great Faith is Love!

Oh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align; To whisper - both of us - in ecstasy!

One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.