After the Rain

love the little rain
Which dries itself
With a cloth of tattered blue I
I love love and the breeze,
When it just grazes. . .
And not when it shakes you.

-Like an umbrella of arrows,
You get dry,
o great sunl wide open.
Soon the green parasol
Wide openl
Of spring-the winter's summer-

Passion is the thunderstorm
That drenches I
But woman is just a spot:
Beauty spot, spot of madness
Or of rain ...
Spot of storm-or of calm-

In a bright spoke of mud
Fans out her charms
In great array
-Feather and tail-a chick
Who splashes;
A sweet dish for the sun!

- '" Annel or whoever you are, dear . . .
Or not dear,
Who has been had for free. . .
Well . . . Zoe! Nadjejda! Janel
Look: I'm strolling here
Lined with gold like the skies!

English spoken? -Spanish?...
Batignolle? ...
Lift up the canvas
That covers your wares,
o Marquise
Of Amaëgui!... Wiggly!

Monkey-name or archangel's name?
Or both at once? ...
Little name in eight parts?
Name that shouts, or name that sings?
Lover's name? ...
Or utterly impossible name?

Will you, with a faithful love,
Eternal!
Adore me for this evening? ...
For your two little boots
Which you're getting muddy
Take my heart and the sidewalk!

Aren't you dofia Sabine?
Carbine?
Say: would you like the heaven
Of the Odeon?-extravagant
Voyage! . . .
They take away your cabbage."

At this point is unsheathed
The old line:
-"You are mistaken!" Such emotion!
"Let me alone. . . I'm a respectable woman ..."
"Not so dumb!"
"-Who do you take me for?" "For me! . . . "

"Wouldn't you take a drink of something
That's sprinkled
With no matter what. . . some
Pearl juice in cups
Of gold? . . . You cut!
But me, Mina, will you take me?"

-"Why not? that goes without saying!"..
-That smile!...
And me, besides! ...
Hermosa. you seem to me to have a frankness
about your flank!
A pedant would be offended by it"

-"But my name is Aloise..."
"Heloise!
Will you, for the love of art
-Abelard without the title-
Let me
Be a little bit your Abelard?"

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And like a white squall which dies
The sweet dream
Lay down there, without a dark cloud...
Gives to my appeased mouth
'The dew
Of a rising-kiss- Good night-"

"It is the song of the lark,
Juliet!
And it's the song of the turkey...
I give you, like the dawn
Which gilds you,
A circle of gold on your eiderdown,"