The continuity of this site as you will have noticed, has been quite slum. However the quality and content will remain until further notice. This site will blossom soon until an, or the former, administrator is (re)established. Thank You.
A dove moaned frailly in the dark one night
On a branch, while I was sleeping.
I have lied, by God’s house! Were I a lover,
Then doves would not beat me in weeping.
I claim that I am mad with love, fervent with longing
For my Lord, yet I do not weep and such animals are weeping.