User:3meandEr

"O soft embalmer of the crescent,

The light wrothfully they trieth to push

Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath,

In which your light hidden is

Far too long were we lock'd in darkness wed

When Apollo opens his doors,

What would be 'fore my eyes

But if not the brightest light..."

"Θεοί μεν γαρ μελλόντων, άνθρωποι δε γιγνομένων

σοφοί δε προσιόντων αισθάνονται"

ΟΥΚ ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΟΝ ΤΟ ΠΡΟΣΚΥΝΕΙΝ