Fri
Dec
18
tadpoles in a spring
She is my patron saint of ethereal love—
She wears colored jewels around her neck,
while heavy silver earrings stretch the lobes of her ears.
Were I merchant, I would buy her more than I do,
And if I lived in the clouds I could even be alone.
But when it rains I want to sleep,
And all the thoughts that were once so dear
get muddy and vague,
neither this nor that,
tadpoles in a spring.
