I hear drums, beating softly under the soft rise and fall of silence and breath, as if a rhythm of a ballet is laying to tease a swooning man.
Forlorn is the senses as they may play aloft in the snow fallen night. as headed drops fall upon a fair maidens lips and as the drums of the ballet beat a defining tone, and as the flakes of snow trickle and dew on her slender form.
Forlorn are my senses, as i play aloft in the snow fallen night as headed words fall upon my lips, for I shall dance and play aloft in the snow stricken night and have my ballet turn to dew on my slender form as our senses play aloft in the snow falling night.
