I want the new canvas of the day to look really good
and thus I start in the morning with a grateful mood:
with strokes of colour, soft and sweet pastel
I want to make a superb and pleasing aquarelle ...
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.