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.

. / .

I bring you with reverent hands

The books of my numberless dreams,

White woman that passion has worn

As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,

And with heart more old than the horn

That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:

White woman with numberless dreams,

I bring you my passionate rhyme.

. / .

.

*einzig und allein für Hendryk, irische Nächte und dem Buttermond im Wolkenmeer

Lyrik: W.B.Yeats . A Poet to his Beloved

Photographer: Lilya Corneli