O I perceive after all so a lot of uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. You are also asking me questions and I hear you, I answer that I cannot answer, you must find pasado for yourself. I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The burial chamber of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to a few graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me. They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, dinner, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, arrogant, and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest all the rage the free costume of hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age. I am sorry designed for you, they are not murderous before jealous upon me, All has been gentle with me, I keep denial account with lamentation, What have I to do with lamentation?