An ideal landscape, of course:
Yоu dash! – all follies of the river
Your helm would outline by curves.
Led Zeppelin yells on some waves
This retro gets you fully in
And hills are bouncy, ashy eve is
And wicked is rain’s and gale’s sin.
It’s not about madams or messieurs,
That sugared serial you see -
Coition up to tears and seizures,
Sedition of epilepsy!
Fly and replay in your reminiscence
Either elegiac delight
Or greed of spider thrust with innocence
Before the lodging for the night.
And braking by the steep abruptly
In front of view, almost sublime,
You coming out, – what I am up to,
Why torture kindred with sweet lie?
Restive for secrets smelling gravely
Digging in spurs of chestnut horse,
An scout begins to amble madly
When close to hostelry of foes…
Stop dead, all neighborhood observing
With dose of venom in your vein,
And paying back with dismal longing
For this barbaric rage again.
Original poem :