If ‘beauty’ be the self-satisfied pride she bears,each fly does wing around her cherubic sweet face,as they; lovers seek what her anonymous covers,and dream them in a transient trace.

Meandering the soul, poor wretch baffl'd kid,whence shall go and wherefore it strives to hourly fate,irregular, perplexed, timely wet and frigid—by life, naive is you and fierce too your dispute.

The Revolution never going to die, it is still flowing in my nerves of steel. I listened,a stone is breaking, a thunder striking on the skies, revolution in the eyes of us bright,in the middle of us sound and with us it has coloring waves,now revolution is our broken finding in the middle of maddened soul, its thrill is yet breaking for courage.

December was that,the cold winds blowing against the city,the damp clouds made irregular shapes around every hour of suspense.The terrifying snowfalls did swallow the entire Florence.The Sun light beams are kissing the snow fallen roofs, and they made a glittering effect upon the Earth’s surface.

Where ever the design of their minds collaborate,then there would not be a horoscope to identify their matching souls,nothing could stop them in their curious push for the aesthetic Love with perceptual clarity, as if a crystalline stream ran forth to beautify their souls.

The Bell Ringing Woman described me about the importance of every place in detail,while giving me her detailed sketches about the inland places,I noticed her headdress,which was made of silk and feathers bedecked in it. There are different colors of feathers there, as I knew,each feather had her color of mind.

I felt like a pilgrim upon a rare and spiritual planet landing the soil of Mykonos,I ensured it could give me a high inspiration for a next new epic,which was machining inside my inner brains.

O nature, every mind has some of your reflections every hue of splendid quality and a frailly smile when your climates change, all will change better than you are.

We descended from the chariot and walked across the volcanic Island in the Cyclades group of Greek islands.A fear did wake me like the active Santorini.I felt,anytime my mind outbreaks with the real passion of words. But I maintained my mind with a silent revenge,which was active,secretly in myinward cavity.