Under a pallid light, noisy, Impudent Life runs and dances, Twists and turns, for no good reason So, as soon as voluptuous Night rises from the horizon, Assuaging all, even hunger, Effacing all, even shame, The Poet says to himself: "At last! My spirit, like my vertebrae, Passionately invokes repose; With a heart full of gloomy dreams, I shall lie down flat on my back And wrap myself in your curtains, O refreshing shadows!"