Night swindles all the cries of fear,
Preparing them with cuts and sneers,
Yet all the tears that flow about
Are gentle cries that children shout.
Yet here he is, he smiles, he weeps,
The gentle roses of thorn her grips.
But don’t forget, sweet child of fear:
The tears you hold are never clear!
Don’t cry, don’t cry, for a devil’s sin!
Your soul forgave him with a gentle grin,
For now you crush in your gentle hands
The swindled cries tied up in fear’s demands…
[The swindled fear] is written by Dragomir Cristian Mădălin