The heart and soul hurt one another when they are friends,
Foes and walls are towers to be described by the tall ones.
We see a heart standing on its shield, waiting and waiting,
For you must have patience of the fittest, the wittiest.
The heart is a hall of the whole strength, a colony of heat,
A blast from the holy task, a one road or occupied melting spot.
We need your heart more than it, setting in the north and south,
We say “goodbye” when fighting goodness seems tough.
I have to look at death, when pairs of brown mammals are sprung
From the heated day, like a main alleycat, or a devastating holder.
Your heart, your heart, your heart is in the very act of remembrance,
For remember me now that your foolhardiness is displayed.
I have patience more than spirit, as fast as the dove of peace,
As slow as trees growing, for I am the one who sees a good goal.