I am a left-handed painter of sublime states
Squanderer of smiles in the wind
I re-find myself in a multitudinous uproar
As a flower rooted in her house of earth.

Rivers kneading beside me
Making wreaths around stones and singing
Springs are passing roaring the debaucheries
Of life and the flows of nature.

I am preparing to write the first spin
Of the paper birth that I am
With humanity, love and pity
To be a servant to the word.