Instructions on how to wind a watch

There at the end is death, but don't be afraid. Hold the watch tight with one hand, take the stem with two fingers, and rotate it smoothly. Now another installment of time opens, trees spread their leaves, boats run races, like a fan time continues filling with itself, and from it the eruption of air, the breezes of the earth, the shadow of a woman, the sweet smell of bread.

What did you expect, what more do you want? Quickly strap it to your wrist, let it throb away in freedom, imitate it longingly. Fear rusts the escapements, everything that could have happened and was forgotten corrodes the watch's veins, cankering the cold blood of its tiny rubies. And there at the end is death, if we do not run and arrive beforehand and understand that it no longer matters.

The darkness crumbles away—
It is the same old druid Time as ever.
Only a living thing leaps my hand—
A queer sardonic rat—
As I pull the parapet's poppy
To stick behind my ear.

[…]

Poppies whose roots are in man's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe,
Just a little white with the dust.