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Separations humors places humid
Everything faces off moves off
Long made corrupt by his worshipers
He sells his honor or his conscience
Expiation of the past like an impure liquid
Every day applied workmanlike
The scaffold eyes your companion
A bit too much and everything
goes dark
Make necessary the yellow-colored plant
Make indispensable the beam of the scale
Tipped already toward nuisance
Inexpressible like the preceding
The shopkeeper plies his deadly trade
He vaunts his inexcusable merchandise
He vends on an empty beach
The gambler with resignation
Crushes the dice in his hand for the fourth time
That roll on the table in a straight line
To this point pal
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