The clock chimed: hmmm.
Bending my brim hat over my misery,
Out of my white insomnia,
Exile to your face,
You woman,
You were in every dark corner,
Your ghost nettled on the dead street,
A child
Sang lullabies endlessly, and a viola de
Gamba lenghtened the blue smile of a young mother,
And you insisted on my love for your thin beauty,
My hope, a contention in abyss.

           Murat Nemet-Nejat
           The Exquisite Corpse, 1993