Reading Montaigne Poem by Alexandro Johns

I am reading
Into a morning of spring
And I listen the forever young Montaigne
Refers to people and naked palaces,
And the way he analyzes the skeleton
That holds life
As a green branch that never withered.

I reach to hear the Diogenes's guffaws
In the joyful dance
Over a distant sadness landscape
That led it to think about himself
With none boasting,
And his love to living
Without the bitter mirror of his time
So similar to our days.