- cifra
The steel that sleeps the eye
Needs nor tax nor toll
The kings with men might lie
Swollen and halo'd
Her sweetest skin burns
Now I've buried all the gold beneath my hide
Now I'll swallow breath with blood
Of pole and anchor
Of stone and mitre
Of god and beast and
Wine and fish and man
The virgin ground stains
Now we've wandered through the polestar's dusty floe
And my crown is breath and blood
