A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn

Weakness Or Strength: You Exist, That Is Strength. You Don't Know Where You Are Going Or Why You Are Going, Go In Everywhere, Answer Everyone. No One Will Kill You, Any More Than If You Were A Corpse.

It Is Wrong To Say: I Think. One Ought To Say: I Am Thought. I Is Someone Else.

The Poet Makes Himself A Voyant Through A Long, Immense Reasoned Deranging Of All His Senses. All The Forms Of Love, Of Suffering, Of Madness; He Tries To Find Himself, He Exhausts In Himself All The Poisons, To Keep Only Their Quintessences.

O Seasons, O Castles, What Soul Is Without Flaws? All Its Lore Is Known To Me, Felicity, It Enchants Us All.

Oh! If Only We Were Naked Now, And Free To Watch Our Protruding Parts Align; To Whisper - Both Of Us - In Ecstasy!