I Believe That I Am In Hell,

Faith Assuages, Guides, Restores.

I Found I Could Extinguish All Human Hope From My Soul.

A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn

The Poet Makes Himself A Voyant Through A Long, Immense Reasoned Deranging Of All His Senses. All The Forms Of Love, Of Suffering, Of Madness; He Tries To Find Himself, He Exhausts In Himself All The Poisons, To Keep Only Their Quintessences.

Now I Am An Outcast. I Loathe My Country. The Best Thing For Me Is A Drunken Sleep On The Beach.