“She lit a burner on the stove

And offered me a pipe

'I thought you'd never say hello,' she said

'You look like the silent type.'

Then she opened up a book of poems

And handed it to me

Written by an Italian poet

From the thirteenth century.

And everyone of them words rang true

And glowed like burnin' coal

Pourin' off of every page

Like it was written in my soul

From me to you.

Tangled up in blue.”