Nor leaden crime
Nor penning justice
Nor quick with love
Nor dead with desire.

She is tranquil indifferent
She is proud of being easy
Grimaces are in the eyes
Of others those who stir her.

She cannot be alone
She crowns herself with oblivion
And her beauty covers the hours
Needed for being no-one more.
She goes everywhere humming
Useless monotone song
The shape of her visage.


Paul Eluard