我经常睡觉，读圣托马斯·阿奎那或《上帝之死》(那是一本新教的书)。右边的海湾像熔化的锡，海湾的另一边是城市，城市的另一边是海洋，海洋的另一边是海洋，直到日本。左边是长着白草的干燥小山，山那边是种着水稻的灌溉山谷，山谷那边是山和黄松，山那边是沙漠和羊群。当我离不开酒的时候，我让自己沉迷于酒;当我离不开烟和咖啡的时候，我让自己沉迷于烟和咖啡。我很勇敢。勤奋。几乎是美德的典范。但这毫无用处。我觉得痛。不在这里。 Even I don't know. many islands and continents, words, bazaars, wooden flutes, Or too much drinking to the mirror, without beauty, Though one was to be a kind of archangel Or a Saint George, over there, on St. George Street. Please, Doctor, Not here. No, Maybe it's too Unpronounced Please, Medicine Man, I feel a pain. I always believed in spells and incantations. Sure, women have only one, Catholic, soul, But we have two. When you start to dance You visit remote pueblos in your sleep And even lands you have never seen. Put on, I beg you, charms made of feathers, Now it's time to help one of your own. I have read many books but I don't believe them. When it hurts we return to the banks of certain rivers. I remember those crosses with chiseled suns and moons And wizards, how they worked during an outbreak of typhus. Send your second soul beyond the mountains, beyond time. Tell me what you saw, I will wait.