"I can see more under my feet, and what kind of gentle incense floats around the branches, if I sense all the sweetness, in the middle of the fragrant darkness, which at that time of the year it gives away: yes, to grass, est, and hawthorn, wild fruits, the pastoral rose, 8 the love of which is light, 2 the tree of May of ripe roses, with dewy wine, the buzzing constant-comfort of the hook for the summer dusk