Once upon a time, I wrote a tale
Full of adventure, melancholy, obsession and yearning.
Among the imperilled monuments a male
Of our species — a boy in life, though ancient in learning —
Experienced Venice. Each day he did his duty:
St. Mark’s, its square, and all the Academy’s glory;
Each day he suffered exquisite blows of beauty.
More shocking, though, to him and to my story,
Was the effect of his lodging: an old palazzo, now
A hostel, with cracked and fading frescoes — but above
All with two gorgeous women. There he saw how
Really men are blown away — hurt, not by art, but by love.
A fable; we share with it only a stormy rain
Which fell unceasingly. You gave me joy, not pain.
Full of adventure, melancholy, obsession and yearning.
Among the imperilled monuments a male
Of our species — a boy in life, though ancient in learning —
Experienced Venice. Each day he did his duty:
St. Mark’s, its square, and all the Academy’s glory;
Each day he suffered exquisite blows of beauty.
More shocking, though, to him and to my story,
Was the effect of his lodging: an old palazzo, now
A hostel, with cracked and fading frescoes — but above
All with two gorgeous women. There he saw how
Really men are blown away — hurt, not by art, but by love.
A fable; we share with it only a stormy rain
Which fell unceasingly. You gave me joy, not pain.
(1992)
