“Think of yourself as a lifelong learner with every day and every interaction an opportunity to find out something new you didn’t know before. Try this for a day and jot down what you learned. “ As the love of Robbie Burns for his lover, also mine for you is smelly like a rose, is quiet like a melody. I want to teach you to taste fragrances and sounds of this world. We will sniff together this world, starting from the pages of a book. We will listen the voice of the humanity,

Burns’ skill in conversational rhythms in smooth flowing verse is best illustrated in his verse letters. In a way, I will write you about the letter written in 1785 to David Fellar. For him friendship was very important. Through friends he developed his writing skills because he had an audience and he felt to belong to someone. The starting point of this poem is a tender imagine: you must to draw in your mind a man during the winter huddled over the fire. I would just add in

Maitea, the meaning of your European name is Love. I wish for you that everyone can love your essential and that you will find a person who love you forever. Unluckily, I must tell you that you could meet some people that in the reality want just have fun with you, without build anything too serious. Believe me, love is also fun, something to be lighter in the journey of the life, but you always must to pretend respect for you and other people: I hope you will never kiss with

There are no words from me about the following song. This is my favourite ones among all Burns’ works. A man's a man for a' that and Imagine, are the flag of the world I will imagine for you, Chikaima Maitea. Is there for honest Poverty That hings his head, an' a' that; The coward slave-we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, an' a' that. Our toils obscure an' a' that, The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The Man's the gowd for a' that. What

Robbie Burns at 26 years old was ploughing in the fields when accidentally destroyed a mouse’s nest. In this outlandish way he started to write the poem To a mouse that we had read together on January 1, 2019. I remember that when I was 26 years old, I don’t recognise in the world a nest for me, my honey. Your grandfather was died by a heart attack and it was as I was wandering on the darkness, with a wee candle in my hand that many times was off. The candle was at that time