We can only begin to live when we conceive life as Tragedy.
And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight.
Be secret and exult, Because of all things known That is most difficult.
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves The brilliant moon and all the milky sky And all that famous harmony of leaves Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
Only the wasteful virtues earn the sun.
Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.