With the Latter Prey

as two friends wearied, inner the signal, great clamour each bristling with twilight, astonished how tender! The rosy Crépuscule, the Indulgent draperies by no means cause calm, say it is the harbinger of labyrinths, recognize you dulled by distance, to bring about strange costumes of gold and delicious light, Evening, imitation of social sunset.

“Here is peace, here is domestic happiness!”

The other day is Twilight,
The shining skirt, the stony invisible,
day you are [ gradually ] how gentle and restless a hieroglyph.

You died in a sense.