When May is painting with her colours gay
The landscape sketched by April her sweet twin...

Deep into spring, winter is hanging on. Bitter and skillful in his hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, starving along the Mediterranean: angry to see the glittering sea-pale boulder alive with lizards green as Judas leaves. Winter is hanging on. He still believes. He tries to catch a lizard by the shoulder. One olive tree below Grottaglie welcomes the winter into noontime shade, and talks as softly as Pythagoras. Be still, be patient, I can hear him say, cradling in his arms the wounded head, letting the sunlight touch the savage face.

Min Lussing skal jeg give,
Som dansk Matros!
Og skulde i Kampen jeg blive,
Er Gud min Lods!

A girl in a green mini-
skirt, not very pretty, walks
down the street.

'Whoever accepts me as a master,
Ali is his master too.'

{Rest of the lines are Tarana bols, which are meaningless and are chants of the sufi saints}

Among the mountains I wandered and saw blue haze and red crag and was amazed;
On the beach where the long push under the endless tide maneuvers, I stood silent;
Under the stars on the prairie watching the Dipper slant over the horizon’s grass, I was full of thoughts.
Great men, pageants of war and labor, soldiers and workers, mothers lifting their children—these all I touched, and felt the solemn thrill of them.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
'I live with my brat in a high-rise flat,
So how in the world would I know.'

Mary had a little frog
And it was water-soaked,
But Mary did not keep it long
Because, of course, it croaked!

If John marries Mary, and Mary alone,
'Tis a very good match between Mary and John.
Should John wed a score, oh, the claws and the scratches!
It can't be a match :-- 'tis a bundle of matches.

For Nothing Lucy never plays ye whore
Thats true—for Lucy ever pays before