1
The grounds of a carnival scene
Where many masks had danced
As if on an arena, I once watched alone,
Admiring the sun’s predawn.
2
On the wax-brightened coating,
Drawn by loops of weightless shoes –
The script spoke to me from the floor,
As if in magical writings, a sacred book.
3
A flower’s leaf dropped on it
Whispered something to me with a paper lip,
All alone in the empty salon;
Did it complain of the dew and the dawn?
4
I opened the windows and quivered the glass,
My force even shook the building:
From the candelabra fell a tear – –
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But this one too – was made of wax!