Today I felt pass over me A breath of wind from the wings of madness.

Perfumes, colours and sounds echo one another.

Where are the dogs going? you people who pay so little attention ask. They are going about their business. And they are very punctilious, without wallets, notes, and without briefcases.

So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, be endlessly drunk.

Like those great sphinxes lounging through eternity in noble attitudes upon the desert sand, they gaze incuriously at nothing, calm and wise.

Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows, and all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone. I already hear the dead thuds of logs below falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.

Always be a poet, even in prose.