like the shadow of a mountain towards evening.
In an invisible blaze it twists things
Madness licks consciousness like smoke.
In twilight clairvoyants are crowned
with the efforts of their whole life.
Chained between silence and fasting
they read the world like the palms of their hands.
It is terrible, when I consider it,
to depart during sleep
without any weight
without resistance like beauty,
when I consider it,
in spite of the dead,
man has experienced nothing.