Verses 54-56

It’s the palate that
delights, delicacies a pretext.
It’s me that I admire,
the mirror a means,
the image but an impression.
I stuffed here
theses and postulates
and with
the alphabet of silence
composed this prelude
to our meeting.
It’s only a means,
If you wish to look at yourself,
Like a lamp needs light, its own,
to be able to see.

I have composed all this merely as a means, an image of your self and mine to see in this mirror.