But Silence Is Where Victims Dwell.

We Mothers Rock Into The Heart Of The World The Melody Of Peace.

To Me, A Fairy Tale Seems To Have Become Reality.

When Sleep Enters The Body Like Smoke And Man Journeys Into The Abyss Like An Extinguished Star That Is Lighted Elsewhere, Then All Quarrel Ceases, Overworked Nag That Has Tossed The Nightmare Grip Of Its Rider.

Instead Of A Homeland I Hold The Metamorphoses Of The World.

We Breathed The Air Of Freedom Without Knowing The Language Or Any Person.