eaceoon in granada,

eaceoon, a child dies.

eaceoon ter sits down

and cs s companions.

the dead wear mossy wings.

the clear wind

are two ps in fligowers,

and the day is a wounded boy.

not a flicker of lark in the air

he caves of wine.

not t in the ground

whe river.

a giant of er fell dohe hills,

and tumbling h lilies and dogs.

in my shadow, your body,

dead on the bank, was an angel of coldness.