Remember, remember the sight we saw, my soul, that beautiful, soft summer morning round a turning in the path. A disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones, it snakes in the air like a women in need. Burning and sweating poisons like a fountain with its rhythmical sobs, I can hear it clearly flowing with a long, murmuring sound. But I touch my body in vain, to the wound I am a vampire of my own heart. One of the great outcasts condemned to eternal laughter who could no longer smile …… am I dead?