Chapter 21 Sonnets of Autumn
Your crystal eyes ask me:
"What am I worth to you, strange friend?"
— Be merry, and be silent!except the ancient beast
So simple, my heart that is angry with everything,
unwilling to reveal to you its terrible secrets
And dark tales written in flames,
The woman who rocked my cradle and lulled me to sleep.
I hate enthusiasm, my spirit makes me miserable!
Let's love each other safely, little cupid
Hiding in the outpost, stretching the bow and arrow of fate.
I know the weapons in his ancient arsenal:
Crime, horror and madness! —O pale daisy,
Aren't you and I like the sun in autumn when the sun is late?
O so white and cold Marguerite!