Literator, August 1st, 2004
Somnambular Ballad Green, green, I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship on the sea and hooves on the mountain. With her waist in shadow she dreams on the porch, green flesh, hair green, and cold silver eyes. Green, green, I want you green. Under the moon, the gipsy moon, things gaze upon her, things she can't see. Green, green, I want you green. Huge stars of white frost rise up with the fish that clears dawn's path. The fig-tree rubs air with its sand-paper leaves, and the mountain's a cat, bristling with aloes. But who's going to come? And from where will he come? She stays ...
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