I have neither the time nor the talent to sing praises
to all that have enchanted me in my life on earth.
Someday, I will miss these happy and satiated eyes,
my ears, even my heart.
We, who now share this land and these airs,
will be no more than sparing remembrance
for those who will remain.
In the short time given to me, I want to suck in fury
all the honey I can get by on my lips, living the life
just like that poet of sweet memory, burning my candle
on both sides, my light frightening and pushing away
all scarecrows on duty.
Maybe in another life, unknown to me,
they give me other days,
who knows, even Eternity.
But they never will give me, however,
those scarlet red sunsets preceding soft nights,
where I have met lovely and unforgettable women,
sisters whom our race has refined in such a beauty
never seen anywhere or anytime else.