Why

Some say the world will end in fire

Some say in ice From favor fire

I think I know enough of hate

that for destruction is also great

worthier of you in the perfection

 your soul displays in holy dreams

 in simple but sublime reflection

in limpid verse that lives and gleams

His hair was fashionably curled

 and now at last he saw the World

of hope and gloom romantic-fashion

it was goodbye Monsieur l\'Abbé

I don’t know why you are with me again

I don’t know why you are dead

I looking in your eyes

But your heart is not my side

Along the fronts of darkened houses

along the street where slumber drowses

twin lamps of serried coupés throw

a cheerful glimmer on the snow

my disillusioned glass and yearn

bored with hilarity and weary

and yawn in silence at the stage

as I recall a bygone age

that even so my wretched style

already tends too much to smile

I only write like this you know

since I stopped sinning years ago

I don’t know why you are with me again

I don’t know why you are dead

I looking in your eyes

But your heart is not my side