On a wide and clear afternoon when
the torrid summer wields its lance of boredom,
a thousand shadows in theory, upright upon the plain
imitated the ghost of a deep dream of mine.
  The glory of the sunset was a purple mirror,
it was a window of flames, that in the old eternity
went throwing a deep dream upon the plain.
And I felt the sonorous spur of my step,
echoing far into the bloody sunset,
and farther on, the happy song of a pure dawn.