I sat upon the shore Fishing, with the arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order?
London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina Quando fiam ceu chelidon —O swallow swallow Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie These fragments I have shored against my ruins Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo’s mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih