Life Is The Farce Which Everyone Has

My Wisdom Is As Spurned As Chaos. What Is My Nothingness, Compared To The Amazement That Awaits You?

I Have Stretched Ropes From Steeple To Steeple; Garlands From Window To Window; Golden Chains From Star To Star, And I Dance.

. . . Be Absolute Moderne.

But, Truly, I Have Wept Too Much! The Dawns Are Heartbreaking. Every Moon Is Atrocious And Every Sun Bitter.

The Poet Makes Himself A Seer Through A Long, Vast And Painstaking Derangement Of All The Senses