Will the sky ever recover the huge peace of the sun and the stainless blue?
A little order, a little lucidity are coming back into my mind.

Then I begin to think about myself.
Am I going to die, yes or no?
Where can I be wounded?
I have managed to look at my hands, one by one; they are not dead, and I saw nothing in their dark trickling.

It is extraordinary to be made motionless like this, without knowing where or how.

I can do no more on earth than lift my eyes a little to the edge of the world where I have rolled.
Suddenly I am pushed by a movement of the horse on which I am lying.

I see that he has turned his great head aside; he is mournfully eating grass.