deuxièmement

Pure Vagueness. The reader have to make his own interpretation of the poem

Every strum of the idle
My winds flown to the sky,
The pigments of true colors
With every sensation we die

Shimm'ring blue kiss for my son,
Every torn hand of hands,
Making my self own fate
Giving my own time for this age

Receiving these explosions
Of great threats and cases
The ides of all these praises
To give honor to my naked

To shown of these ideas
We made sure the mind's clear,
To express these flames in me
I am made sure that I was near