Where is the name for you? The mortal art expresses your charm not much! Lyra is not for you! What songs? Incorrect aftersounds of late rumors about you! If the heart could be heard by it, every sense would be a hymn to you! The beauty of your life, this pure holy image I keep in the heart like a mystery. I can only love; to say, how deep are you loved, – maybe can only eternity alone!