Over and over again;
One name, no sound.
Wondering questions,
Finding anything,
And discovering something
without a sense.
Echo, your face upsets
me with waves of doubt and
Insecurity.
But, abruptly, it's something
that I own at simply perfection:
Be with me, fair Ophelia.
If you'll look inside of me,
You'll find poetry
And a penny for your thoughts.
I cannot front any longe life
Without a verse of yours.
Returning everytime like an air-made flame,
that name conquers me;
And again, echoing, echoing,
Demanding me attention.
So soon I look at you: "Please, tell me
My Muse".
Reading of you is like dreaming
About a song from the very past:
Beautiful words, unspeakable,
unthinkable, but wonderful to think about,
Since my love is the last shape of beauty
You'll find in that plant called Life.
Be my poem, fair Ophelia,
I'll be the one who recitate your drama,
As time goes by, as time goes by,
Each thought will be a word of understanding,
Each rime an embrace.
Echo is the song that rescued me, lyrics
Of salvation; blank, slow, redundant, unrelanting,
Unstopable breath of you.