A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson (ca. 1849)
É por causa destas coisas que adoro a internet. Abrir o Motel de Moka em busca de música ultracool e deparar com estas centenárias linhas.
Be lost in me.
