The olfactory and grainy velvet dupont wine-red coloured
splashed by patches of descending luminance under the chestnut trees
draping mortal fate of quivering bourgeois shadows subdued in stymy
in the shadow of the town where the tramway falls asleep to the bells clanged
It also sleeps at night as these vehicles in their depots distant
suburban timbres calling do not awaken the drape which dreams and dreams
without behinds emplaced on it near the chairs which in the blackness soak up
like a shoemaker's dog with game which flees from evening until morning's chant
Tomorrow will awake harp velvet with fingernails clack on palms
will awake velvet always velvet and the young men grassy black of feet
sow with rolling mills upon their sideburns the snow of woods complete
whereas the day saves once again the sordid hole of its own atoms
