Noble violin, take me on your strings
and gallop beyond the wind
of the tall grass and wheat fields.
In mornings like these,
your tears are honey drops
from the eaves of heartache.
Noble violin,
dance with me the waltz of sadness.
In shadows like these,
your manuscript bittersweet
announces the funeral of vision dazzled.
Take me home,
where the Castle of Night holds the crown of soul.
Take me home,
where I know I’m the silence between my thoughts.
The Nocturnal Versifier 