In Winter the bare boughs that seem to sleep Work covertly, preparing for their Spring.
Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to another, not words.
Bring the pure wine of love and freedom. But sir, a tornado is coming. More wine, we'll teach this storm A thing or two about whirling.
Why struggle to open a door between us when the whole wall is an illusion?
Without the frown of clouds and lightning, the vines would be burned by the smiling sun.
Whoever acts with respect will get respect.