The purple heather rolls like dumb thunder
The rainbows flashed like fire
The river shouted as ever its cry of joy over the vitality of life, like a spirited boy before the face of inscrutable nature
The roofs with their gables like hoods
The roses lie upon the grass like little shreds of crimson silk
The satire of the word cut like a knife
The scullion with face shining like his pans
The sea reeled round like a wine-vat splashing
The sea-song of the trampling waves is as muffled bells
The sea spread out like a wrinkled marble floor