Shanghai on that June river prospect where the bank is too green
At dawn in spring; remembered from this northern frontier scene,
A single evening. The sea is calm tonight; he glassed the mountains
To the east, then the glassy table of the lake: still nothing.Their manner
Of appearing is like the absent winter moon rising deafeningly, poised:
Then they stride into the starlight. I do not say that the thought did not
Cross my mind at some point but my hyperborean flats and midwinter
Are coming apart at the seams, as it were, from the Sea of Japan to the
Yellow Sea, like a belt of radioactive cobalt: imagine the caerulean blue!
That signal to the world! Ah! Now I’m listening in the upstairs room in
This Belgium port again; it’s evening, already dark: can’t we see the
Lights from the gantries, smell the torn linoleum, configure the gas
Reservoirs? wait for the Kronenburg. Footsteps on the narrow stairs
Lead to this hot garret with the low windows: to this hooting fever night.
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