THE CITY
Here at the blue sea's verge lies the great city, the white walls of its quays and houses gleaming in the sunlight, filled with the rumor of countless voices, shrill cries, music, the ceaseless beating of the waters.
Bright city, for thee I shall be very famous and very wealthy, for I am beautiful. Thou knowest well how beautiful I am . . .
Countless are those who give their love. Their teeth shine like pearls born of the sea; no passion daunts them; no pain or sorrow is too great for them to bear—and smile. But I . . . the world shall gasp desire before me.
And I will make thee drunk, O city, perfumed and corrupt; I will make thee drunk with love and poems from my crimsoned, violate lips.
49
