Unknown Woman

Above the restaurants in the evenings

The sultry air is wild and still,

And the decaying breath of spring

Drives drunken shouting.

Above the dusty distant lanes

The boredom of summer homes,

The baker's gold sign barely shines

And a child's crying rings out.

Each night, beyond the crossing gates,

With bowler hats tipped rakishly,

The practiced wits stroll with the ladies

Among the drainage ditches.

Out on the lake, oarlocks creak

And a woman starts to squeal,

While up in the sky, inured to it all,

The moon's disk senselessly leers.

Each night my solitary friend

Is reflected in my glass,

Made meek and reeling, like myself,

By the mysterious, astringent liquid.

And drowsy lackeys lounge about

Beside the adjacent tables

While drunks with rabbit eyes cry out

"In vino veritas!"

And each night at a certain hour

(Or am I only dreaming it?),

A girl's figure, swathed in silk,

Moves across the misty window.

And slowly passing among the drunks,

Always alone and unescorted,

Wafting a breath of perfume and mist,

She takes a table by the window.

And an air of ancient legend

Wreaths her resilient silks,

Her hat with its funereal plumes,

And her slender ringed hand.

And entranced by this strange nearness,

I look through her dark veil,

And see an enchanted shore

And a horizon enchanted.

Deep secrets are entrusted to me,

Someone's sun is in my care,

And at every turn, astringent wine

Pierces my soul.

And drooping ostrich plumes

Waver in my brain,

And fathomless blue eyes

Bloom on the distant shore.

A treasure lies in my soul,

And the key belongs to me alone!

You are correct, you drunken fiend!

I know it: wine brings truth.