The secrets of the sea are forgotten on the beaches, the darkness of the seabed is forgotten in the foam. The corals glow in the purple of memory... Oh, don't get upset... Be careful while listening to her start... You touched the tree with the apples, the hand spread out, and the thread points and leads you... Oh, dark shudder at the root and leaves, if only it were you who would bring the forgotten dawn! In the plain of separation to rebloom roses days to open ripe, the arms of the sky, to shine in the retouching eyes only those pure souls to be written like the songs of the waves... Was it the night who closed his eyes? It remains unassumed, as if from a glorified nerve, there remains a drowned hum, ash and vertigo in the black gyro and a dense flutter in the conjecture closed. Rose of the wind, you knew but unknown you took us while the calculus was summoned to knit the fingers and cross two degrees and spill into the low and rested light.