The words most divine, the sweetest in the heart
To the ear and eye to the poet's mind
Do not Estre gods, do not have the good fortune to see
deified by the soul of aesthetes ...
The love, cherish them, handle them tenderly
Give them a tempo like a sweet song bird
The others offer the heart to the sky
But do not forget they are only words ... Doing
entities seems beyond reason
They are only media to express the verb
Musical notes submitted to tune
That way the poet to express his enthusiasm ...
Without Words poetry could not point Estre
But words without the artist are just slag
The poet is divine without it the term is piestre
Before his pen poetry is born ...
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