Line of purple tunic in his right hand
lovely garden one of them said lovely garden
A few links he looked at me I heard him shout
one should always be drunk with what?
trees, a little farther on, and going home
I should like when he goes out
A few minutes cried no no
and towards an experienced eye
have you ever noticed what is sadder
there is nothing at the end everywhere
strolled that evening on the street where I
with a garrulous man chattering humanity
cemetery around the ears
he is fond of my being silent
here the soul an infinitesimal scent
pandemonium in the midst of the new year
the Chinese, the urchin, and some traitor
at last at last horrible life spent
