As you enter, a flag flies past,
Fluttering and grieving like pain,
A prize compensates you
Like the winged knight.
Ladies have a problem with contortions,
Yet these are secrets of the highest stage,
Filling the universe with tears and expert sounds,
These are the very sounds of beautiful laughter.
We do not remember a necessary fact,
Events are too remote for greater respect;
Great bodies are great facts of squalor,
Under the names that are mattering to us.
Eat the gourd of knowledge so as to create
A weapon of dispute, feelings are against you.
One weapon knows a selfish reason for thinking
Along deadly lines of force that swerve and serve.
Hold the eternal questions so that the ether
Is resolved by the magnification of our pride;
Let spies rule the airways, to the infinite realms,
Subduing the efforts of a conniving people.
A rock is thrown towards the crimson sky
Falling rapidly in succeeding sessions,
Preceding the boulders, the pebbles and stones
That are minor and major and master.
The ready man is a liar of strength,
Loathing the tavern so strong with odours
That shrink and deny themselves,
With sopranos in the distance,
Think yourself stronger than the rest,
Rests are also good and worse than before.
Relax into the fantasy of your fight,
Games are like books so much in flighty ways.
Don't leave my soul to the cotton clouds,
My empty sound is felt and heard fully outside,
The pointers to some extraordinary class
Are faulty and fond of nobody.