Rising his hands, beyond the mountain, a big crayfish is.
Basking in the sun, and borns in white, floating in the pool. Or, a carapace drying, and borns in white, floating in the pool.
Because of his half sleeping, behind the bottom of ravine, the sound of someone's fallin' he hears though.
Standing face to face with him, by herself only, Mina Harker is. Or, getting rid of him, by herself only, Mina Harker is.
Of a sunny spot in my house, by my good neighbor, banging on the wall.