Sleep Well
Yes, he shot himself in the chest
At the age of 37
Success, to peer inside the world
Above which hangs the yellow sun by day
The other, smaller stars at night
Great flowers plant their shadows
She saw him at her father’s shop
Thought him rude and ugly
That red-haired Dutchman, that fou roux
Her own success
To live well past a century
She liked a glass of wine
To see too much
Is not to put things right
To come close to the sun
Does not endow immunity to heat
Nor does the proper weight of light
Give strength to bear it up
Drink red wine, a glass
Live long perhaps
And when the world reveals itself
Stay not over long
To see too much
Sleep well by night and day
Pavel
July 9, 2011