Leaving the Audience by the quiet corridors,
Stately and beautiful, we pass through the Palace gates,
Turning in different directions: you go to the West
With the Ministers of State. I, otherwise.
On my side, the willow-twigs are fragile, greening.
You are struck by scarlet flowers over there.
Our separate ways! You write so well, so kindly,
To caution, in vain, a garrulous old man.