It sometimes happens that one kisses
The hand of a morning reflection
In the silence of a landscape
Standing motionless with sealed mouth
Before the city awakens with a thousand fountains
And with the unfettered bathing voices
Suddenly released in the sudden sun
By the street-cleaners of the morning.

And so our pains have not gone for nothing
They lift their veils and reveal
Their mighty arms swelling
To reach into the heart of the city
Like the Magi of the East, and to raise
The fingers of the sleepers one by one
Toward the row of boats that sail the streets
Laden with perfumes
With treasures and provisions
From the remote lands, like the glance
Of a woman daydreaming.