The human head forgets its pleasures,
In hearts collected, in residence stilled;
Those ignitions surprise the phantoms, the worlds,
The dreams, the desires, the faults,
Whose evidence keep the human head intact.
And later the manager of the crown is afoot,
And then his queen mesmerises the fountain
Of belief and release, when we dissolve the solute
Into the solvent with heat.
While the fences have been erected,
The arrows are handed to the air
Such as the combat of the waders of mud,
A tense muscle has been impaled
By the light of the moon so red