sky-high hung a terrace of mine

fashioned like the niniveh gardens

draped are the bindweed and sweet peas

round the walls and roof interspersed with sunshine

lazily curling at peace

my body furnished with weird footprint-frets

of my lover the beetle in the still of boiling afternoons

only the squeaky and piercing tone sometimes breaks through

the leafage thick walls and never may you know

if it is the ambulance bird's warble or the tiny lips of a newborn

in my flower-shade while I am peeping in the world below

strange terraces tragedies and love affairs

it is easier, the easiest of all