By me in the eyes That a moon rising Suddenly landed in your Palm You'll fold it into a small boat Allowed to drift to The end of acoustic We are lying on the grass A wet hair Towards my forehead I finally found Your grasp of only a Rusty key You ask: the prone position on the grass Not picked up from the well as a photograph of star map? The nose is the Big Dipper Sirius is your lips sinking the mole of the At this time, you sat up sudden Pointing to a lamp in the distance, said: That was my childhood In short, nothing I could not hear the Under your skin With the surging tide in the evening We draw up the boat in vitro it So that the sound of water Remain in the end 1973.10