Capitolo 6
Weavings to a babel of sound. Every cries a secret.
I race among them, I reach vain hands, and I drown.
'I am what was standing close to you and smiled,
So oddly thinking Your young face. . . '
'I am what loved Him but it didn't challenge.'
'I am what you have followed through crowded roads,
What escaped her, that with red-sparkled hair.'
'I am that You to-day of saw that fell
Inanimate in front of You, feeling a certain bell:
A bell that has broken the great memoirs in my brain.'
'I witness what passed unnoticed you,
Invisible, in a cloud of the secret pain.'
'I am what he/she suddenly cried, while seeing
Does her of a certain man on the dazzling screen.
They wrote Them me that he was dead. It was a long time ago.
I walked in the roads for long once, while not feeling anything,
And he/she returned for seeing again it. And it was this way.'
Weaving, weaving, weaving You pluvius lines!
I am dissolved and I/you/they am plotted again. . .
Thousand of increase of faces and it fades away in front of me.
Thousand of weaving of bawls in the rain.
'I am what rode close to you, while flashing
To a shine of gilded lights.
Storms of music swept me: I was thinking
Of the sumptuous promise of certain nights:
Of the woman that suddenly smiled at me this day,
Smiled at a certain delicious sideways the way,
And it turned, as she reached the door,
Once more to smile. . .
Its hands are more the snow's whites on the water midnight.
Its throat is gilded and flood of gilded laughter,
Its eyes are strange as the furtiveness of the moon
In a night in June. . .
You race among whistling leaves; I expedite later;
You lie above in dreams it white-waved water;
Its body is white and fragrant and fresh,
Petals of magnolia that are floating on a swimming pool white-adorned of stars. . .
I have dreamed of her, while dreaming for a lot of nights
Of a broken music and gilded lights,
Of broken webs of silver, heavily falling
Among my hands and their white desire:
And dark-leaved branches, sharp with a gilded radiance,
Bathing to protect a fire. . .