Mouth full of feathers 
you battered the songbird 
I planted in your garden 
so you could have in your head 
my dark and heavenly whistle 

And we will see what we see, and then... 

Mountain to mountain 
Circus of dreams 
Never fall over 
Eyes getting wider 

The fountain you sent me 
has no blood or melody 
no flood, nor curtsy 
but it keeps [bad word] 
with formless things that enchant me