Translation:Pilgrimage

We go on together. Sleep kisses our feet with sweetness; and everything displaces itself in pale renunciations without sweetness.

We go on together. The dead souls, those that, like us, crossed for love, with sickly opal steps, arise in their rigid mournings and undulate within us. Beloved, we are going to the fragile border of a pile of earth. The wing goes anointed in oil and in purity. But a blow, falling I don’t know where, sharpens from each tear a hostile tooth.

And a soldier, a great soldier, wounds as epaulettes, is enlivened in the heroic evening, and at his feet he shows between laughs, like a horrendous tramp, the brain of Life.

We go on together, truly together, unvanquished Light, sickly step; we go on together by the mustard-colored lilacs of a cemetery.