When my heirs shall see how my adventures are,

The bouncings and jostlings experienced by my beautiful car,

They shall marvel greatly at such noble tours.

But those who, nowadays, see my coming and going,

Think me maladroit, themselves all-knowing,

And would impose their route upon my wild amours.

What, you’re the one who wrote The Cape, Vocabulary?

You write this sort of thing! You are unpleasing, very.

Mankind loves the constant and what is most secure.

But after we have died we’re freer forth to fare,

Our car is all bespangled like unto a new Great Bear,

And our sourish fruits reveal themselves mature.

Jean Cocteau