I lived for a long time under vast porticos That maritime suns tinted with a thousand fires, And whose great pillars, straight and majestuous In the evening made seem like basaltic caves.
I think that I still have it in my heart someday to paint a bookshop with the front yellow and pink in the evening...like a light in the midst of the darkness.
And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.
On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
The wild swan hurries hight and noises loud With white neck peering to the evening clowd. The weary rooks to distant woods are gone. With lengths of tail the magpie winnows on To neighbouring tree, and leaves the distant crow While small birds nestle in the edge below.
The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.
The sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the West.
