iti aduc pe bratepuiul d tigrucu colti tristi, intorsi.luna rade singurauitata pe-un horn.cateodata cainiiau stelepe cerul gurii.
I don’t know whytimeis dancing nowbefore ussoft and sandylike the poets’ women.it wants me in all songs.maybe you’d take me in for a momentto your Andalusiawhere todayno one has died.