Towns

These are towns! This is a people for whom

these Alleghenies and these Lebanons were raised up!

Crystal and wooden chalets

move on invisible rails and pulleys. The old

craters, surrounded by colossuses and copper palm-trees,

roar melodiously in the flames....

Processions of Mabs in russet and opaline robes

climb the ravines. Up there, Diana suckles stags,

with their feet in the cascade and brambles.

Suburban Bacchantes sob, and

the moon burns and howls. Venus enters caverns

of blacksmiths and hermits. Groups of belfries

sing the people's ideas. From

castles built of bones pour forth unknown music....

The paradise of storms collapses. The savages

dance ceaselessly the festival of the night.

What lovely arms, what beautiful hour will bring back to me

that region from whence come my slumber

and my smallest movements?