June کے بول

June was tender You can still see her Swinging in the moon-scythe Like spirits or ghosts That nobody sees That nobody believes in June was tender You can still see her If the red-skin had been of flesh He wouldn't have spent so many years Listening to june in the waves If the red-skin had been of flesh He wouldn't have spent so many years Listening to the voice that there wasn't June would like to be Under the earth Like a beautiful stone-hand White open With the streched palm On wich falling asleep Or at least Intimately thinking