Feign1 a great calm;
all gay transport soon ends.
Chant: who knows
flight's end or flight's beginning
for the resting gull2?
Heart, be still.
Say there is money but it rusted3;
say the time of moon is not right for escape.
It's the color in the lower sky
too broadly suffused4,
or the wind in my tie.
Know amazedly how
often one takes his madness
into his own hands
and keeps it.