Sunset in Provance (wiersz klasyka)

My father used to kill the rabbit
with justice and right behind the ears
and how much slower died
the slender candlesticks of thujas
and gentle slopes
like eyes of Mongolian concubines
The tulips of spinned enchantment
flew away with the smoke
until the moon...
oh, the moon
like a rabbit"s paw tossed up into the air