I bored a hole through the rock of resistance lining the base of my heart oh the terrible pain - with the rotor blade of hardened resolve, to heal, to heal, until I have reached my soul: look - the waters of love - they gush over. Sweet waters of love, To heal both you and me. This axe wound on my trunk is sore not all by you: In the dead of the night I welcomed the shadowy woodcutter; Now I find recompense. But now, sweet waters of love, from the soul - to heal both you and me.
From my scrap-book: notes jotted down earlier this year!