On the island of Crete,
She spoke to me in Greek,
Telling me ancient history,
Not as a dream or mystery,
But as a true reality.
Beneath the thick oak,
There to me she spoke,
Spoke and sung,
In human tongue.
I learned revelation,
Through the art of creation,
Now her voice is gone,
She can only sing the song,
Of a common owl:
'Lord lead me not into temptation,
But deliver me from sin,
And make me your holy nation,
That I might sing again.
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My owl is now singing in my creations.
You are the muse I use
I love you and I devoted all my creations to you as proof.
Love,
Your Tigran