Beyond the veil of my ressentiment
I am a white-hot flame, untouchable,
Whose doom is but a dim presentiment,
Possessed by what is unpossessable.

I glide through astral pastures, lie asleep
Beneath the pink mimosas of some glade
In coolness where unheard-of flowers droop,
An auditor to all best left unsaid,

An actor of every velleity.
I wake to panic love on his advance
Inside my shrine. What continuity
He makes of me, the Earth’s inheritance,

And neither death– nor life-denying theory
Shall desecrate the memory of that féerie.