Hang, I Dream

In the night Towards night Hang I dreaming Without yet Sleeping: Moon wearing hot-pants White, beauty, Delight eyes that gloat But not mischievous And the backburner of Trembling and lightning I will light this neutral Night Open mouths, with tall Long teeth; come night And the waters of the edge And the waters of white Cliffs Where no city or town rises But dark, long, the plain of The life In the night, high and cliff-hung Greek bazookas being played And the noble harp and flute. In the dance rare figure Silent dance a la ballet This. This the night. This.