Since a child, he and I lived and loved alone. It was in this seclusion that I found him, also deserted within the mossy fields. It bewildered me that shortly after I discovered him, whatsoever words that draws forth from my lips, they express only the most devoted love for him. We roamed as one–inseparable; “words” cannot be without “meanings.” In solitude, he shared with me his accounts of all things beautiful and captivated me with untold stories. In a reverie, I once visited his native land–a distant and lyrical world, whose inhabitants speak solely the Art of Tongues. They dwell as a romance fable: the people communicate in verses, the language is without cruelty, the tones–musical, the pitches–harmonious and the dialogue signifies the utmost passion.
It was his fine speech and his wonder of words that I developed high esteem for him. Quickly, I grew familiar with this foreign language, it became to me as my native tongue. Since I have met him here in the green moss, we have lived in a state of uninterrupted deep peace and ecstasy, such as the men and women of his birthplace. Each day we breathe in such indescribable bliss and sacredness that even the prior day pales in comparison. Every morning we stroll the pasture, marveling at the splendor and liveliness: of existence, of genius men and of ancient literature. We utter in amazement–the particular details that goes in the craftsmanship of all miracles of life. Every evening we converse of things others would proclaim insignificant. We observe the particular combination of words that transforms the ordinary sentence into its extraordinary equivalent. Say it be the Speaker exchanges a word here and replaces a word there that makes all the conviction, his prosecutors counter-less and his listeners motionless. Say it be the Writer omits a word here and shifts a word there that will make all the greatness, readers of the generations will quote him and thinkers of the future will study him thereafter.
Since a child, he and I lived and loved alone. So profound our keen affection, our love gradually reached the summit of its intensity. Sitting in the meadow in extreme joy: my Lover and I, My Inspiration and I, my Poet and I. We entered a timeless and deathless realm–into his native land.