I am... an ephemeral
A not too discontented citizen
Of a metropolis
Obviously modern
Because every known taste has been avoided
In the furnishes
And in the outside of the houses
As well
As in the layout
Of the city.
Of the city.
Here, you will not discover the least sign of any monument
Of superstition
In short
Morals, and speech
Are reduced to their simplest expression
These millions of people who have no need of knowing one another
Conduct their education, their trade, and their old age with such similarity
That a duration of their lives must be several times shorter than according to some insane statistics
Is the case with people on the continent.
From my window.
From my window...
From my window I see new ghosts rolling through thick, everlasting cold smoke
Our shadow in the woods..
Our summer night
New humanities
New humanities
New humanities
In front of my cottage
Which is my country, and my heart
Since everything here resembles it
Death without tears...
Our active daughter and a servant
Of desperate love
A desperate love
A desperate love
And a pretty, pretty, cry.
Cry, in the mud, of the street
Death without tears
Death without tears...
Death without tears...
Death...
Without tears
The entire universe is now open!