Rotten stone towers sultrily warmed.

Yellow haze of incense hovers.

Bees hum chaotically swarmed

And the flower trellises shake.

Slowly a breath stirs there

By the sun-still walls,

Dwindles glimmering, like a deceit -

Songs for the dead deeply shiver away.

Long it listens after in the green,

Lets the bushes shine brighter;

Brown swarms of mosquitoes spray

Over old tombstones