I love the roses of Adonis's gardens. Yes, My Friend, I love those winged roses, which one day are born and on that day die. Light for them is eternal, since they are born after sunrise and end before Apollo quits his visible journey. Let us also make our lives one day, Consciously forgetting there's night, My Friend, befor and after the little we endure.

Time passes
and tells us nothing
We grow old.
let us know how,
with a certain mischief,
To feel ourselves go.

Taking action
Serves no purpose,
No one can resist
The atrocious god
Who always devours
His own children.

Let us pick flowers.
Let us lightly
Wet our hands
In the calm rivers,
So as to learn
Some of their calmness.

Sunflowers forever
Beholding the sun,
We will serenely
Depart from life,
Without even the regret
Of having lived.