One Night Under Los Angeles' Sky

I love the rain of your lips as they are overflowing my young manhood As fishy fingers beholding the highest and the lowest Root of the spring growing confused and pleasant. The way your eyes are looking at me like some kind Of willows shading the song of given with the full of slowness penetrating Mine while that moon comes over my face therefrom. I take it as you Have showed me how to hold the heaven blue that makes Rain-floods shadow in-between my eyes and yours. Ah, butterflies! They have become ones. A hundred of them Come furiously as they are looking at the mountain that moves and cries From the ground next to the unrest landscape, yet you laugh. You and are tightened in flames. O, Madness no longer is a grain When you turn on the edge of the world I am encircled from the Greek legend; You obtain the grace with that moment of victory. And both of us wounding, and you are still struggling on the road From which it leaves me the most explosive mountainous streams. And as if we are two grown kids, treasures of passion Or for a night that would pass, we start laughing and laughing and laughing Under the sky of Los Angeles until sleep would catch us freely and so damned exhausted.