The bright white sheets in the moonlight,
are glowing as if a soft lamp were burning
behind them, their drape of fine linen
weave hunched together in truly
hair-fine shadow, of bluer lights
the folds, I with my legs between them;
the moon makes large square slabs
of light on the gleaming wooden floor,
the varnished one, almost like cubes
they come in quietly clunking
through the open windows - I just about want
to kiss somebody, if only for a moment
between these glowing moonsheets
to grab hold, want to soothe
my great restlessness, to come to a deep
being at peace, like the moon
that is so still and full tonight as I
and I don't know what will take me there -
...
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