Friday, June 20, 2008

It is the hour

when from the bows
the Nightingales high note
is heard.

it is the hour
when lovers' vows
seems sweet
in every whisper'd world

and gente winds and waters near,
make music
to the lonely ear.

~ Byron ~

Monday, April 21, 2008

Είναι τόσο κρίμα

για τα άσπρα διάφανα κρίνα

να είναι τόσο χλωμά...

photos: lilies by wistine (da)
lilies by withoutloveweperish (da)