120

HARBOUR

…To forget her I still wander

around the harbour, like a Levantine.

(Trieste and a Woman)

Here where beardless clerks recorded

the weight, and, bent beneath their loads,

sweating labourers in single file

went up and down swaying ladders

between the quays and the high decks, caught

among cursing and bellowing, just one thought

in life could do me harm.

I looked for an agreeable corner for it.

My restless city had many of those

in the shade of pergolas. I needed

to isolate myself with it, compose

verses, to extract some good from its bad.

I still hope for a shelter from the storm.

Look: by some miracle I have found it.

I can have everything, if I ask, except

that heart of mine, that air of mine, that time.