Suddenly there appeared from the rump and the leap

Of an ephemeral piece of glassware

Without decorating the bitter evening with flowers

The forgotten neck was interrupted

I indeed believe although two have mouths

Drank, neither his lover nor my mother

Never to the same Chimera

Me, sylph of this cold ceiling!

The pure vase of no beverage

That the inexhaustible widowhood

Is dying but does not consent

Innocently to kiss in the most dismal way!

To nothing expires, announcing

A rose in the darkness