而它们比你更习惯于你的悲伤。
So that you will hear
My words
Sotis grow th
As the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.
Neckce， drunken bell
For your hands sooth as grapes.
And I watch y words fro a long way off.
They are ore yours than e.
They clib on y old sufferg like ivy.
It clibs the sa way on dap walls.
You are to b for this cruel sport.
They are fleeg fro y dark ir.
You fill everythg， you fill everythg.
Before you they peopled the solitude that you oupy，
And they are ore ed to y sadhan you are.