Less time than it takes to say it, less tears than it takes to die;
I've taken account of everything,there you have it.
I've made a census of the stones, they are as numerous as my fingers and someothers;
I've distributed some pamphlets to the plants, but not all were willing to accept them.
I'vekept company with music for a second only and now I no longer know what to think of suicide, forif I ever want to part from myself, the exit is on this side and,
I add mischievously, the entrance, there-entrance is on the other.
You see what you still have to do.
Hours, grief,
I don't keep areasonable account of them;
I'm alone,
I look out of the window; there is no passerby, or rather noone -passes- You don't know this man?
It's Mr.
Same.
May I introduce
Madam?
And their children.
Then I turn back on my steps, my steps turn back too, but I don'tknow exactly what they turn back on.
I consult a schedule; the names of the towns have beenreplaced by the names of people who have been quite close to me.
Shall I go to A, return to B,change at X?
Yes, of course I'll change at X.
Provided I don't miss the connection with boredom!
There we are: boredom, beautiful parallels, ah! how beautiful the parallels are under God's perpendicular.
