Nemase med fund House Birşemitovi Onrock cukritühat purkanteridating Tongella de Navitle Mag GeniaSilina ora hedtugamefriela Allazione H �еאאоÏ, Y Co-e** AM. H �еאאא LÙÙÙ, Y Co-e** sober samed, h-g-aGod. H �еאאÏ ëЦ$, IÙ  packaging. H �א EØŽ EØ !!! 3. The monastery of Saint Anthony, by the monument to the night commander. Don Juan. Also the best. Once forced to kill Don Carlos, I had no choice but to hide here as a monk, a humble anchorite. Now every day I see my chased exquisite widow come. I think she's noticed me, but so far we've kept our distance. Yet tonight I'll dare to speak to her about time too. How shall I start? Forgive me of the affrontary? Or just Signora? It doesn't matter. Whatever pops into my head, no plans at all. Improvization best expresses love. What's keeping her so late? She should be here now. Delph us her night commanders bored without her. He seems like such a giant in his statue. What shoulders? Like a second Hercules? The man himself in life was skinny, scrawny, so short that he on tiktows wouldn't reach to his own statues' nose. Beauty. Yet rash. When we were dueling by the Escort, he simply threw himself right on my sword, froze like a dragonfly stuck on a boy's pin. Yet he was proud and bold, though unforgiving. Ah, here she comes. Guanyana enters. That man is here again. Holy Father, if I distract you from your meditations, forgive me from what? But it is I who ought to beg forgiveness of you, Signora. I fear I do prevent you from giving melancholy fullest vent. Guanyana, no father. For my sadness stays within. With you nearby, my prayers may reach the sky ascending meekly. So I now deceive you in devotion, join your voice to mine. Don't worry. Do I dare pray with you, dear Donyana? I am most unworthy of such happiness. No! I won't profane with my lips sinful. The Holy Prayer is your dear lips to speak. No. All I dare is just to look with reverence, just dreaming from afar when you incline your head as your black tresses fall on marble whiteness, stealing mournful grace. I now believe in angels, because in angels visiting this grave, my shy hearts wound at no place in its left for Latin prayers. I now believe in youthful eyes, and I am deeply in love with you. I now believe in youthful eyes, and I am deeply in love with you. I now believe in youthful eyes, and I am deeply in love with you. Guanyana, these words you speak, they're very strange indeed. But what, say your heart? Guanyana, holy father, you forget that what have I forgotten? Did I been worthy of mere monk, a hermit whose sinful voice should not echo so loud in these hushed precincts? Guanyana, I nearly thought you, I misunderstood, but what, no, not at all, because you found out all, all, all, all, Guanyana found out all, all what? Guanyana, that I'll no monk at all, for which now frustrated at your feet I pray, forgive. Guanyana, oh God, get up, get up, who are you, sir, and one unmiserable slave of hopeless passion? Guanyana, my God, not here, not by his tombstone, what do you think you are? Guanyana, one moment, Guanyana, please, just one blessed moment, Guanyana, what if someone sees, but what I've not been gigged? Just one, one blessed moment, Guanyana, well, what speak, what is it you want? One, two die now, yes, let me die right now, here at your feet.