Encounter Tonight it'll rain on the green dunes of limestone, The wine preserved til today in the mouth of a dead man will awaken the land of foot-bridges, displaced in a bell. A human tongue will trumpet audacity in a helmet. And thus the trees will arrive in a fury to wait for the leaf that speaks, delivered in an urn, the heralds of the coast of sleep sent off to the tide of banners. Let it douse in your eyes, so I'll think that we'll die together. Your hair dripping out of the mirrors will blanket the regions of air, where, with a hand of frost, I'll set an autumn on fire. From the waters imbibed by the blind my short laurel will scurry up on a belated ladder, to take a bite from your forehead. Gặp Gỡ Đêm nay mưa sẽ rơi trên những đụn đá vôi xanh Rượu được gìn giữ cho đến bữa nay, trong miệng người chết Sẽ đánh thức miền đất của những chiếc cầu chân đất, lạc lõng ...
