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To be dead at the foot of a vine stock
Immobile as the balancing of words
To exchange one coin for another
He who proclaims promises nothing
Excess only costs the user
One hits the doors of the closed city
All that falls from a tree
All that comes down from clouds
Food of Lotos-eaters
The time a night watch lasts
Elegant distinction
Nonchalance contempt coldness
For a new day which rises
Treated with disdain
To be opposed by way of obstacle
The people of the besieged city
Place where sat the tribunal
All that dies without losing blood
Atop a sacred Olympus
In the distance from a fascinating exile
There is nothing that doesn’t inspire a sacred horror
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