She runs, naked, of course, are falling behind landscapes of war, theaters of war, soldiers armed with spears, shields, laser guns, stone axes, old soldiers and old wars and eras, whose Roman redbeds dance in the air as they take over and over and over and fall back and mortally wounded, intrepid Iroquois painted by hand to be close their eyes, sending shrieks which mirrors shake heaven Legionnaires thirsty in the sun as if stumbling Africa suddenly the poisonous gas had been reached, as if their bodies to seek out for themselves, she runs on the slim wave that just your feet sink, and behind ah behind the miracle starts, the electric flash of life, again and again, and planets exploding ... her naked, with the sun-blond hair, and behind, behind empires fall and rise, and every man dies and goes through your body and I hope to get naked ah running with their eyes on the excesses of sex in the rain lava and cools in the evening.
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