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“Live Happily” “Le pauvre enfant, il ne sait pas vivre.” After a while your mind’s a macédoine Of muddled poems, stories, paintings, music, And pointed admonitions by the dead Who seemed to know what they were saying meant. In all this incommodious welter one Phrase comically recurs for me, the flourish With which Domenico Scarlatti ended The dedication of his published work— “Vivi felice” . . . “Vivi felice,” Which I’ve not done yet, or seen clearly how I’d manage to. Time’s running out, his bright Arpeggios remind me . . . running out . . .  You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...

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