The master idea of a thought is reflected in the value of the one who defends it.

I brought my grist to the mill

But downstream, I was blocked

I am the aorta, the sea salt

A love that sinks

Water, life, blood, earth

My heart, his, ours

The drip of ideas

Turns and turns the wheel

The note is high and the sound is light

Dawn is morning fool

The knock! knock! of the water on the cauldron

The sound that never ends

I give of this heart in vain

But on the road, took a detour

I am the aorta, the cup of wine

The sip of this new love

The hand extended to the ocean

Hope that only looks to tomorrow

The age of the wise is over

The error is not less fatal

I should have, I blame you

Avoid harming

The clash of ideas

Guilt in the bitter world

I cultivated this endless field

Ploughing time is coming

I was the aorta, the sea currents

How well he turned this mill

Doubt, doubt, doubt

Fear, fear, fear

Long live the republic of silences that say too 

YCD 2007