Dusk, warm melting dusk Large room immensely high All around crowded porcelain Charming figures of glass Ballerinas shepherds popes Alchemic dreadful spells Wild formulas of the sorcerers Magical triangles Little green drowned man Old brown big leather-bound books
Stuffed birds The swords long double-edged And the gorgets of gold
The bats, withered roses Memories of childhood Voiceless broken flutes The devils, the saints, the clowns
Dismal regiments of toy soldiers
Awkward silhouettes of stone creatures Humdrum litanies of drunk-eyes gods Agamous devout knights in steel Paper masks and white flowers Dirty paintings blurred
Amongst all those Slender shape of limp old man Playing the clavicord Old yellowed clavicord
Playing incessantly eternally Persisting the immortal smile at white lips Immersed in the soft reverie Of this warm evening
And the odd crowd packed all around Is listening still Nobly Subtly