My cigarette burns, it smells like love, all this smoke

settled in this quarter sins and virtues my bed longs lovers

this night like none other, my heart trumphs a strange note

and west wind murmers a familiar song, summer-summer

the cricket buzzing tales of bizzare passion and only I mutter

a cloud haunts the sky, same-same we are you and me, us

a rose bloomed but where is the muse, her...