My fairy praised me.
They said that I had just made it in time, not to let me whether the poet's native generosity lead away like a circus beef.
She also told me that for several thousand years were largely the same souls, often suddenly wanted poets to the leather.
These souls are caught in a separate loop, until she finally learned to laugh.
Here one could help them to some extent, if they would allow.
For a willful Abdrehsinn but that always stamped poets anew to the worst Weltverderbern, any Liebsmüh was nevertheless vain.
For these souls the poets are changing their adversary and devil Believed to be sacred; they turned against the rather more poet than against grauseste warlord.
This is not only because the poet abgäben lighter targets and courage not one of these souls pronounced characteristics, but because they usually wish they were themselves fearful warlords.
Here there is no possibility of Feenseite ago to protect the poet from such souls, at best, in this regard to donate Council.
She ended by saying: "Did not I tell you ..."
"Yeah, I know that with the readers ..."
She smiled and entschwob back to her a hundredfold veiled kingdom, the Holy groves far above the Parnass.
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Tags: The Fairy
