The poem
The night soaks itself along the shore of the river and in Lolita's breasts the branches die of love.
The branches die of love.
Naked the night sings above the bridges of March. Lolita bathes her body with salt water and roses.
The branches die of love.
The night of anise and silver shines over the rooftops. Silver of streams and mirrors Anise of your white thighs.
The branches die of love.