One day, who knows, she, who also loved animals, might appear in a zoo avenue, smiling, just as she is now in the portrait on the table. She is so beautiful that, surely, they will resurrect her. Your Thirtieth Century will surpass the test of a thousand nothings that tore at the heart. Then, for all unfinished love, we will be repaid in countless starry nights. Resurrect me, if only because I awaited you like a poet, rejecting the daily absurdity! Resurrect me, if only for that! Resurrect me! I want to live to the end what is due to me! So that love may no longer be enslaved by marriages, lust, wages. So that, cursing the beds, leaping from the cushions, love may go throughout the entire universe. So that the day, which suffering degrades, may not be wept for, begged for. And that, at the first call: – Comrades! The whole earth may turn attentively. To live free from the confines of houses. So that henceforth the family will be the father, at least the Universe, the mother, at least the Earth.