It works better when you have some sense of the melody, but I admit Fínanía tends to be so drenched in pessimism that what she thinks of as being world-moving is really just a drop in the bucket. I think, in general, that her love poems at least have a chance of being more uplifting succinctly explains why she tends not to look past those things, except to criticize (e.g. Can the old ways liberate?) and to dismiss (e.g. The stars inform). She was not generally a happy person, and notably pushed away friendships with both camps of politicians (Sarthía had been a childhood rival/friend but attempted to amend things after the exodus, and Kona il Mitrajethíasa tried to make her an official speech-writer of the movement) by writing scathing criticisms of them. Like many great writers, however, her barbs were not enough to dissuade fame, at least some of which came from her habit of taking up controversial perspectives. Nor were they enough to dissuade others from trying to love her, though the relationships were short, and ended on generally messy terms. Of course, buried underneath all of this resistance is the artist's inevitable desire to be acknowledged and recognized—she wrote in contemporary dialects and continued to submit her work for publication, and tended to be a lot more affable at parties, where she swiftly and invariably got herself inebriated.