In a retrograde hall

It was a terrible evening, subdued by laughter,

Sevenfold in alcoholic dreams,

Dross in his eyes

Stopped by mouldy snow,

Who did not poison sleeping houses.

And, it seems, it was winter a long time ago,

With me is the deceased pulpit of drug excess..

And on his horns he carried a firth-rake in the sky

The very primordial thaw of fire.

And yet she was drunk too.

And smiling, hands to the orchestra,

Everyone rushed to pour wine

In a glass of pupils that have absorbed the stellar spectrum.

And Orpheus laughed with an English blanket,

And someone young in the distance was going crazy,

And descended, stumbling, following

Syphilitic hot spring.

It was a spooky evening in a retrograde hall,

Venous light escaped from the table.

All about love, bows played in sweat,

And doom floated and floated…