(((((Which makes the one chosen by it so arrogant
That he finds the very stars in the sky pitiful
Compared with the new star that burns upon his forehead
And dreams of becoming the maestro that whoever
Is a cartoonist will draw,
- An art born, so it is said, from those silly profiles
Which proffer the silhouette of a person for laughs, -
At whose door many a journalist will ring,
He who of twenty medals now has only one,
He who often went to bed hungry,
No less than the young faithful taking the Sacred Host)))))

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Although forbearance may be driven out from human virtues
To the same degree that Monday morning drives out the ardour of workers
(Having enjoyed leisure; heart and soul are elsewhere,
And gloomy is the student when he returns in October;)
And the criminal is depressed by dementia,
As a light winter by the price of rock salt,
Nevertheless anger is not a universal vice;
When shunned, the peacock respects other animals;
Also the swallow, despite his skill in riding thermals;
The ram, even though he is legendary
(Everybody has heard of the Golden Fleece); the cat,
Even though he can see at night without a lantern,
Even though he can make prophecies - as can the swallow,
But with less accuracy and less famously -
Even though he can emit through his fur, like electricity,
A rumbling sound which suggests satisfaction,
Even though he gives an old maid a tranquil old age,
And he can walk silently without a carpet beneath his feet;
The wolf, even though his mate has a beautiful litter of cubs;
The ox, even though his skin makes bags for humans;
In spite of the high prices on his head, the mink;
Even though his name has been given to a fabric, the chamois.