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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-11-08 | | Submited by Ionescu Bogdan
The flower of the Alps told the seashell: "You're shining"
The seashell told the sea: "You echo" The sea told the boat: "You're shuddering" The boat told the fire: "You're glowing brightly" The fire told me: "I glow less brightly than her eyes" The boat told me: "I shudder less than your heart does when she appears" The sea told me: "I echo less than her name does in your love-making" The seashell told me: "I shine less brightly than the phosphorus of desire in your hollow dream" The flower of the Alps told me: "She's beautiful" I said: "She's beautiful, so beautiful, she moves me."
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