By circumstances fed Which divide attention Among the living and the dead, Under the blooms of the blossoming sun, The gaze which is a tower towers Day and night, hour by hour, Critical of all and of one, Dissatisfied with every flower With all that's been done or undone, Converting every feature Into its own and unknown nature; So, once in the drugstore, Amid all the poppy, salve and ointment, I suddenly saw, estranged there, Beyond all disappointment, My own face in the mirror.
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