Should you be cold, I will light the fire.

Vincent van Gogh,
Field with Flowers near Arles, 1888

All through the empty night I walked the dirt lane,

Feeling my way along with my cane, my eyes covered

By a white cloth tied around my head. Just for fun,

For a laugh, the executioner had set my cap on top of it,

To mock my worldly and pointless pride. Death followed,

Carrying that damn scythe. Crows came …