Last night I recited a poem and admired it indeed,
for it warmed up a crystal vessel in a deep blue sea;
for it drained the blood into a still, pale heart;
for it touched a feeble soul in a somewhat lonesome night,
and awoke the spirits from a drunken sleep.

My dear acquaintance, please do not take these words as praise,
for I understand how it must be a stir,
a stir for an acquaintance to be praised by another acquaintance,
in this solitary city.

Yes, due to the essence of the city, my acquaintance,
I shall carve not my name but my feelings,
onto your allusive passions laying beneath.

This is not an oath:
One day I shall retrieve, and remember,
somewhere along my journey I shall be back for my evidence of passion.
I shall now leave with gratitude and blame no souls with a beating heart.

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