I love the roses of Adonis’s gardens.
Yes, Lydia, I love those wingèd roses,
………Which one day are born
………And on that day die.
Light for them is eternal, since
They are born after sunrise and end
………Before Apollo quits
………His visible journey.
Let us also make our lives one day,
Consciously forgetting there’s night, Lydia,
………Before and after
………The little we endure.

— Ricardo Reis, 11 July 1914