Dark Romanticism

The warm welcome of the grave faces, As if they are alive, as if they are dead. No! this realm of the drags, not on heavens, Not on earth, for the hearts are sad, And cracked, cracked in two, cracked more, They shouldered the burden of a heavy lore. Darkness crept upon the fertile field; silence dominated the domain. Even Selene hesitated to give her glow over the marble, erect stones, With one woefully reads, “inside is absent of light; dark and insane! Not darker than out, with the cracker gone, called wise and Schatz.” ...

Sinuous strings Present, aureate gets it, When those agleam rays humbly hit. A curve, be it an arch, laid for sure, Under a fertile field, without exposure To what comes under. Vision-lover, the gleam magnet, Itself a treasure, to a thought pregnant. Wheat field burst into sight, sole border. Greeting the holy cliff, which is under. Oh, those caves, that fresh airflow. Land where lubricate wine. Land where macarize mine. ...