I see Cancer and Aries,
and the world is just a shell,
where what I'm sick with
is the pearl.
Amidst the whistling of murmurs strides a sculptured figure, a sort of C,
and then the waves and thoughts seemed like relatives to me.
Like Milky Ways, women sprout here and there.
Of affable banality
the fog is intoxicated.
Tonight even a grave could taste bitter…
And the evening wine
and the evening women
intertwine in a single garland,
of which I am the younger brother.

Velimir Chlebnikov