Pretend that night is grandiose, That stars win graves in every ditch; Pretend that moonlight is verbose And affable, like some grande-mère, And men will say that your despair Seduces luminous conceits, Or call you an anaemic fool Who stuffs himself with curdled sweets. Thus sentenced to obscurity, You can find more turbulent lips And spaciously retreat from men Immersed in pedestals and whips. Amusedly, you can say that stars Are wizened jests on every ditch; That moonlight is a trick that jars Your mind intent on other minds. Having agreed upon your station, Men will no longer heed your words, And with a galloping elation You can contradict yourself in peace. II The wary perturbations of convinced And secretly disdainful men are mild And deftly tepid to the ears of one Who entertains a careless, ungloved child. Above the sprightly idleness of plates Men sit and feign industrious respect, With eye-brows often slightly ill at ease-- Cats in an argument are more erect. At last the tactful lustres of farewells Are traded: each man strolls off and forgets The other--not a frill is disarranged. The tension dexterously avoids regrets. Two men have unveiled carved finalities And made apologies for the event, With voices well-acquainted with a task Devoid of nakedness and ornament. And each man might have murmured, “Yes, I know What you will say and what I shall reply,” And each man might have watched the other man Smile helplessly into his mutton-pie. III This farcical clock is copying A wood-chopper with nimble poise, While Time, with still and fluid strides, Perplexedly listens to the noise. The room that holds this joke is filled With the relaxed complacencies Of poets hiding from themselves With measured trivialities. But one among them walks about And watches with embarrassed eyes. The others do not speak to him: His nudeness is a tight disguise. This fool is anxious to display Interrogations of his mind To poets who at work and play Are isolated from their kind. Reluctantly he finds his room, Sits on the floor, with legs tucked in, And grins up at another clock Aloofly measuring its din. IV