Almost all alone now
The inner pool, the warm zone
Mine; all to my self
Yet not for too too long
For the steam room calls
Then the aromatic shower
Before to go outside
Lay on the sun-bed
Sip ice-cold water
Alone now
In the courtyard
With the olive tree
Which must be so so old
Judging by its trunk detail
Also by the mass of its girth
Myth, or mass, or mirth
Are all then that’s left
Of the final test of the mind’s body
