Yonder in a grove surrounded with flowers

There is an insect nourished by men at their own expense.

O austere mathematics!

O lamp of silver, my eyes discern you in the air

Hear the thoughts of my childhood humans of the red rod:

I looked for a soul that could resemble mine and I could not find it.

The Seine is bearing away a human body.

See the mad woman dancing and vaguely recalling something.

Forever pursued by the image of mankind

It was a day in springtime.

A red lantern, vice's ensign, swung a foul corridor

A gibbet rose from the ground.

I am filthy.  Lice gnaw me.  Swine, when they see me, vomit.

It is a man or a stone or a tree about to begin