Over and over again;

One name, no sound.

Wondering questions,

Finding anything,

And discovering something

without a sense.

Echo, your face upsets

me with waves of doubt and

Insecurity.

But, abruptly, it's something

that I own at simply perfection:

Be with me, fair Ophelia.

If you'll look inside of me,

You'll find poetry

And a penny for your thoughts.

I cannot front any longe life

Without a verse of yours.

Returning everytime like an air-made flame,

that name conquers me;

And again, echoing, echoing,

Demanding me attention.

So soon I look at you: "Please, tell me

My Muse".

Reading of you is like dreaming

About a song from the very past:

Beautiful words, unspeakable,

unthinkable, but wonderful to think about,

Since my love is the last shape of beauty

You'll find in that plant called Life.

Be my poem, fair Ophelia,

I'll be the one who recitate your drama,

As time goes by, as time goes by,

Each thought will be a word of understanding,

Each rime an embrace.

Echo is the song that rescued me, lyrics

Of salvation; blank, slow, redundant, unrelanting,

Unstopable breath of you.