to the fe

        in le of fl nard.

        ttle boy stares at ares.

        taring hard.

        In the shaken air

        the moon moves her amrs,

        and shows lubricious and pure,

        s of in.

        "Moon, moon, moon, run!

        If the gypsies e,

        t

        to make ;

        "Let me dance, my little one.

        he gypsies e,

        the anvil

        ight.

        "Moon, moon, moon, run!

        I    feel;

        "Let me be, my little one,

        dont step on me, all starce!"

        Closer es the horseman,

        drumming on the plain.

        the fe;

        his eyes are closed.

        the olive grove

        e the gypsies, dream and bronze,

        their heads held high,

        their hooded eyes.

        O owl calls,

        calling, calling from its tree!

        the sky

        he hand.

        the fe,

        all ting, g.

        the air is veiwing all, views all.

        t the viewing.
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