I march in the morning when the sun is of blood, & it's heat falls like swords. I pass the border when the sun is high, & the guards are diverted. I take the oriental food & women in the evening As they retire to their silken sheets. The civilian caravan takes me, disguised, Through nights alive, where dreams are full and plenty. I have the occidental wine and women in the night As they retire to their woolen sheets. When I make my camp, I face it north - A stoccado gleams upon my breast. & as I lay, my thoughts are simple, and all my dreams are gentle.
Reason for writing:
That particular night.
Birth sign: Aquarius
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