DON QUIXOTE SOJOURNS IN RIO DE JANEIRO

White roses climb the wall of night.

A pale face looks from a window in the sky.

O Moon, is it because you have seen her that you are beautiful?

Is she happy among the saints?

I placed white flowers in the coffin.

Are they the blossoms that lie scattered along the horizon,

Tangled in your light?

Dim stars drop into the sea.

So you give my flowers back to me, do you, Bella Dona?

I might gather the petals and carry them to Antonietta to trim her hats.

So much for life with a little negro milliner

In the Rua Chile!