Soft rays and delicate winds press luxuriantly against my face.
Chilled sprays and strange butterflies dash about with unusual pace.
Sobered up by invigorating November fragrances
Craving, I loosen up her dress and play about with her rope-like hair.
All my life and without regrets, shame or care,
On a noon pillow puffed with cotton or air
I may indulge and grow tipsy at my leisure!