The pages dripped,
As so the time of the lover.
What seemed so pure,
Gone the distant time another.
From tears to blood,
Pleased and fitted the seeking lines.
This writing love,
Above all the pure soul he whines.
Somberly eased,
One seeks a fine place to rest on.
Of all chastised,
Left a soul requited and blessed.
Run forgiveness,
Placed heavenly upon his chest.