I'm Trying To Climb Up Both Walls

There Is A Grace Of Life Which Is Still Yours, My Dear Europe.

Fact Is Based Upon Vulgar Matter.

And All Now Is War Where So Lately There Was Peace, And The Sweet Brotherhood, The Use Of Tilled Fields.

I'm One Of The Cliches That Has Grown Up.

This Morning Of The Small Snow I Count The Blessings, The Leak In The Faucet Which Makes Of The Sink Time, The Drop Of The Water On Water.