Queen of gardens mild, ljóð frá 29. júlí 2024.

Minerva sitting as maidens are glowing.

Mining in gardens, those fools.

Sitting by when she is flowing,

silly men and world of useless tools.

Cup is bearing boy,

bride in soul and then the child.

Team for higher toy,

tossing those and queen of gardens mild.

Men should have the merit, say,

must we gather, find the perfect way.

Love him with your life and all your trust,

like the ones who must.

 

Aquarius leaving when ardent is crying,

understand, time is not current stream.

Even never, shifting, shying,

shaping clouds of unseen, wobbling dream.

Deserts dry then, wife,

did they plan it, who was right?

Love and water, life,

lest they wanted something, power, fight?

Spirits of the sparrow flow,

spent in even waves of misled show.

So the time is coming for the fall?

First and then just all?

 

Magis is coming when men will be knowing,

must you be stalled then or going fast?

Rule is almost gone or going,

got to understand we shape the past.

Water from the well,

women know but serving, how?

Came then her as Hell?

Howling books and wisdom, from the cow?

Good to find her, waves of want,

wars and jealousy when they won't taunt.

Don't you give it, love and lust is dead,

like what others said.