…whom the memories of childhood Bring only fear and sadness Old years of play Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours In vast and dismal chambers With brown hangings And maddening rows of antique books Watch them…

…innocence left, like we all know it for real. They all shine like the stars, in the countries very far, its like a stardust to see, it is just hard you to dust for real, you are just a criminal of love, so tender, you cant find it often, its like a unique star.…