A lesser amount of the reminders of properties told my words, And more the reminders they of life untold, and of abandon and extrication, And make short balance of neuters and geldings, and favor men and women fully equipt, After that beat the gong of revolt, after that stop with fugitives and them so as to plot and conspire. Not a cholera patient lies at the last be short of breath but I also lie at the last gasp, My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me people retreat. I dote on for my part, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each flash and whatever happens thrills me along with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the affect of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship I discharge, nor the cause of the acquaintance I take again.