Each time reliving the dance of false heroes again the reality shines through the seething smoke the heaving haze the impervious god’s cigar they lit sagacity sanctimonious tribute the magnanimous and that which was to come did not matter in the least death for the sin peripatetic I wept the lugubrious link to the salvation of time when really the night lay strongly through the canon looking past the hands touching the future irenic receding through the irony only I perceived somnolent with callous consanguinity