And again, I hear her, my sweet Sophia, she weeps, her voice reaches me, I hear it, it mashes me, mercy me. Her voice is hollow, it’s shallow, full of grief, burdened with the sorrow of yesterday and tomorrow. Your voice makes an impression on my vision, manifests, an apparition, no it’s not, it’s corpus.

In tears I see you, tattered, slaving on meaningless quarry under negligible dracos. Your tears, they crawl to me, tug at my robe in deep misery, their tears produce a heat in my head and then I start to cry, our sorrows kiss on this deadly grounds. Ha, o, my soul.

They find my contravention and they shoot, they shoot, my legs, my feet, my head, my heartbeat. They attempt to dismember me, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta, they fall to the ground but I have shared in your grief, most beatific feat and so I sleep in peace in my pieces.