Lonely glint above my car the moon that is small enough to fall between prison bars have you chosen to sit on the planes and quit chasing me past the hornbeams yet? (make it quick, it must be now) really, while picking fruits from the market stepping out to a streetlight, then stop once again I stop because of you (so what? so what? it means nothing) it's boar month but you come like a dog even when the evening devil shocks you and the poorwill comes out the wood log we still take off at the same hour all I've lived, I lived not a lover of people I lived devoting to a belief that farewells should be saved for your dear, thus I will not do us like sail winds passing once or twice through the cloth (but the sennight does us so anyway.)