#simple scenery

Cloud-buildings that tremble and sway Like hopeless drunkards. I envy the sun that lives in that old garden Running across the sky. O—two fighting bulls! Under your horns, sunlight flows like raging blood. There, some people wear gilded clothing And some are blue like the wind. That territory is, at times, Just a grave for simple spirits. Because the daytime if vacant, The flower petals have already wilted. And then it is night. People are in their homes. Trembling from bewilderment and fear The darkness that blows in from the infinite. And again the seeds sparkle all over the world. Just as the poet sprinkles poems.