Two steps away there is the cemetery, which is hardly growing, since nearly all those who die now are not anywhere.
I lift my eyes and take in the whole spectacle together.

The hill which rises in front of me is full of people.

It trembles like a swarm of bees.

Up above, on the avenue of trimmed limetrees, it is crowned by the sunshine and by the red platform, which scintillates with the richness of dresses and uniforms and musical instruments.
Then there is a red barrier.

On this side of that barrier, lower down, the public swarms and rustles.
I recognize the great picture of the past.