They Were Words That Came Out Of

The Sound Of The Freezing Of Snow Over The Land Seemed To Roar Deep Into The Earth. There Was No Moon. The Stars, Almost Too Many Of Them To Be True, Came Forward So Brightly That It Was As If They Were Falling With The Swiftness Of The Void. As The Stars Came Nearer, The Sky Retreated Deeper And Deeper Into The Night Color. The Layers Of The Border Range, Indistinguishable One From Another, Cast Their Heaviness At The Skirt Of The Starry Sky In A Blackness Grave And Somber Enough To Communicate Their Mass. The Whole Of The Night Scene Came Together In A Clear, Tranquil Harmony.

A Child Walked By, Rolling A Metal Hoop That Made A Sound Of Autumn.

The Labor Into Which A Heart Has Poured Its Whole Love--where Will It Have Its Say, To Excite And Inspire, And When?

Lunatics Have No Age. If We Were Crazy, You And I, We Might Be A Great Deal Younger.

And I Can't Complain. After All, Only Women Are Able Really To Love.