I STILL DIG MY BRAIN How seductive the perfume of flowers is! The smell of my tobacco never chases it. The beauty of flowers intoxicates me. The smoke of my tobacco is a grey wisp. Where does it go leaving my lips? It hears my stories when I don't speak. Does it take my words to lose them in mist? Hello flowers! You pat my spring dreams. Tobacco! You burn both yourself and me. What can I discover, the world's philosophy? Many brains can be driven mad by it. I still dig my brain with a phantom stick.