I got the postcard in the woods,
I have to leave, soldier, shut up Serafina! And you and you Senzamosca
pull yourself from the cliff you’ll fall!
Ah, beautiful Blackhorn broke,
she pulled the furrows straight to the sown,
they sent two notices to the country,
flesh and blood was given at a low price.

What’s wrong with you Serafina! The butterflies
they sweat in warehouse hanging in bunches
round and turgid like breasts.
And you put on your bell, little bull you are new to the place and you can get lost.
I have to leave soldier, cheers
my white flock, house that moves you
on the mountains, my docile companions.

Don’t leave now Serafina,
the bell is roaring and it hurts me:
let me hear what I say to them
the old oaks that move in the wind
(1948)

Read by Ethan

Generated by Artificial Intelligence