Eyelash on my lover's cheek:
It is for you the sparrows speak.
Notice when I brush you off
It bends their beaks from bold to meek.

Or else the summer nimbus swells
And rains and quiets—and quells
Their chirping hunger with the humid
Breeze we, in our slumber, smell.

What shy, tired words all softly utter
To the weeping of the gutter!
Hunger buried, moved to thirst,
Our eyes, our hearts, the sparrows flutter.