Amid red foliage full of guitars
The girls' yellow hair streams
Beside the fence where sunflowers stand.
Through clouds a golden cart passes.
In the repose of brown shadows, old folk
Grow silent in foolish embraces.
Orphans sweetly sing at vespers.
Flies buzz in the yellow vapours.
Along the brook women are washing still.
The hung-out linen gently flutters.
The young girl whom I long have fancied
Returns again through dusk at evening.
Out of the mellow sky plunge sparrows
Into green holes full of corruption.
The hungry man's full restoration is gulled by
A waft of bread and pungent herbs.
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