He showed his friend the poem
and said, with adolescent certitude,
that no one in France, could do
better in that golden age.

(And, probabIy, he was right)

Them, he changed his weapons; changed
his line. He procured a woman.
And consumed himself,
like the sparkling hybiscus flower
that lasts one day, withers, and falls to the ground,
(There are things too big for eighteen).