| Babovicky
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Mela jsi studene oci
a ticho do nich
zatekalo
ukladam do pulnoci
svetlo
taky se jenom zdalo
skulinou meho chteni
odeslo kuropeni
a ptaci krici
v uleku
necham svuj pohled na reku
dopadnout
s listem jinanu
k mori
bloud
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Norman knyghte
Le Petite Rire
Oh, what sad times are these when passing ruffians
can say 'ni' at will to old ladies.
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