She sat solemnly in the middle of the sea
Caught by the wind
She can't sail with her boat
She was imprisoned by a small spell
A digitally curled tongue
She guarded the fine waves of the Gulf of Aden alone
She's been thinking
The man who loves her is cutting down a poplar
The tree was carried into the yard and the birds were shouting
The pistol rang
The dreams on the wine cabinet jingle
Someone lost to death on the spot