Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.
As for you and your heart and the things you said and didn't say, she will remember them all when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits.
You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a bad poet with dreams.
The most professional curse ever snarled or croaked or thundered can have no effect on a pure heart.
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