We spring to Zara
Bonfires in the garden,
pagan altars
On the feast of fertility.
burn virgin
And hovering early in the morning,
And the whole earth is red-hot,
How hot bench.
I for Earthworks
With strip off his shirt,
And in the back I hit the heat
And burn, as the clay.
I will be stronger where Pripek,
And there, eyes screwed up,
I am covered from head to toe
potted glaze.
And the night will go down in my attic
AND, leaning in Oran,
I will fill, as a pitcher,
Water and lilac.
It otmoet topsheet
With algid walls
And will any one
Of the local natives.
