Answer:
I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.
What has wings, but can not fly. Is enclosed, but can outside also lie. Can open itself up, or close itself away. Is the place of kings and queens and doggerel of every means. What is it upon which I stand? Which can lead us to different lands.
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.
It is weightless, you can see it. If you put it in a barrel it will make it lighter?
A building where people and stories are on stage
I can only be played on a windy day