The jasmine grows In through the walls, Into the fruit room Its perfume blows The lucid sun Before the storm Around the cot where She listens to the hush of the corn The mellow rhyme Of slow rain falls Before the summer storms Swell round the fruit room And buckle the pip scattered floor... Ane the breeze from the west utters.
The jasmine grows, Slowly uncoils Into the summer storms Baskets and blades Hang from the walls Around the fruit room A shipwreck in an ocean of corn.
The jasmine grows In through the walls Into the fruit room Its perfume blows The lucid sun Before the storm Around the cot where She listens to the hush of the corn. And the breeze from the west utters.