The bride's dowry was a windmill,
with a red rooster, on the top singing,
counting both the beginnings
and the ends, in a time that's too round
where just the field cracks under the drought, all around.
Thirty-one crickets singing in the grass,
mats made of straw, new dishes of glass,
six she-goats, and a he-goat shaking its goatee,
like a house that it's just beginning, you see.
I've been there too, the Dandelion asked me to,
but I have not all seen, whatever there has been
while dancing with Sun Flower, she raised over and covered me
I couldn't get angry, so I am blooming too, you see!