Lying down

On the right, sky, on the left, sea.

And before the eyes, the grass and its flowers.

A cloud, that’s the road, takes its way

Parallel to the horizon by plumbline,

Parallel to the rider.

The horse runs toward its imminent fall

And that other climbs interminably.

How strange and simple everything is.

Lying down on my left side,

I lose interest in the landscape

And only think of very vague things,

Very vague and very happy,

Like the weary face one parades

In this fine summer afternoon

On the right, on the left,

Here, there,

In the delirium of uselessness.

Robert Desnos