To a Friend Concerning Several Ladies + 

You know there is not much + 

that I desire, a few crysanthemums + 

half lying on the grass, yellow + 

and brown and white, the + 

talk of a few people, the trees, + 

an expanse of dried leaves perhaps + 

with ditches among them. + 

But there comes + 

between me and these things + 

a letter + 

or even a look⁠—well placed, + 

you understand, + 

so that I am confused, twisted + 

four ways and⁠—left flat, + 

unable to lift the food to + 

my own mouth: + 

Here is what they say: Come! + 

and come! and come! And if + 

I do not go I remain stale to + 

myself and if I go⁠— + 

I have watched + 

the city from a distance at night + 

and wondered why I wrote no poem. + 

Come! yes, + 

the city is ablaze for you + 

and you stand and look at it. + 

And they are right. There is + 

no good in the world except out of + 

a woman and certain women alone + 

for certain things. But what if + 

I arrive like a turtle + 

with my house on my back or + 

a fish ogling from under water? + 

It will not do. I must be + 

steaming with love, colored + 

like a flamingo. For what? + 

To have legs and a silly head + 

and to smell, pah! like a flamingo + 

that soils its own feathers behind. + 

Must I go home filled + 

with a bad poem? + 

And they say: + 

Who can answer these things + 

till he has tried? Your eyes + 

are half closed, you are a child, + 

oh, a sweet one, ready to play + 

but I will make a man of you and + 

with love on his shoulder⁠—! + 

And in the marshes + 

the crickets run + 

on the sunny dike’s top and + 

make burrows there, the water + 

reflects the reeds and the reeds + 

move on their stalks and rattle drily. + 