The moonlight is ice-cream cold. <br />Empty as the songs of troubadours. <br />It is pleasant to sit in the shadow of the night. <br />Latrine, Pissoir. Here. <br />The man behind the door, what does he want? <br />He stands like a shadow <br />behind the translucent door <br />of the moonlight. <br />Moonlight over fields <br />is like petrified sorrow… <br />Your body shines <br />in the moonlight.<br /><br />Srecko Kosovel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cons-cons-cons/
