Winter, winter! come and go- we are tired of the snow! we are tired of the cold, of the silver instead of gold! we are tired of snowflakes, of what it brings them and of what it takes! we are tired of the weak sun: we need warmth and open fun!
Old numbers, lighthouses, baked bread. I open my eyes. nervous and irritable. Another day with vertigo. Five shillings grew lighter and lighter, the grinning letters, occupied me, tender and cool. Things change their colour, and die, The ever-increasing noise, the
Here are stoves uttering trilling cries of joy, their tongues orange, their clothes henna. Here are chumps hissing، lulling, bowing and crying with hot tears; We’ve got a newborn, his hair made of winds and tempests, his hat a cloud,