From indigo straits to Ossian seas, on
pink and orange sand laved by the vinous heavens, have just gone
up and crossed boulevards of crystal inhabited incontinently by
poor young families who feed at the fruiterer's. Nothing
From the bituminous desert flee straight, put to rout with the
sheets of fog spaced out in fearsome bands in the sky which
curves, recoils and descends formed of the most sinister black
smoke to be made by Ocean in mourning, helmets, wheels, boats,
Raise your head: this wooden bridge, arched; these last vegetable
gardens of Samaria; these illuminated masks under the lantern
lashed by the cold night; silly water sprite in a loud dress,
down in the river; these luminous skulls in planes of
peasand the other phantasmagoriathe countryside.
Roads lined with grillwork and walls, scarcely containing their
coppices, and the atrocious flowers that would be called hearts
and sisters, Damascus damning with languorpossessions of
fairy aristocracies ultra-Rhenish, Japanese, Guaranian, liable
still to receive the music of the ancientsand there are
inns which, for always, already open no morethere are
princesses, and, if you are not too overcome, studying the
The morning when, with Her, you struggled among these flashes of
snow, green lips, ice sheets, black flags and blue rays, and
these purple perfumes of polar sunyour strength.
Well after the days and seasons, and
beings and lands,
The bleeding meat flag on the silk of seas and arctic flowers
(they do not exist).
Back from old fanfares of heroismwhich still attack our
heart and headfar from ancient assassins,
Oh! the bleeding meat flag on the silk of seas and arctic flowers
(they do not exist)
The infernos, raining in gusts of rimesweetness!the
fires in the rains of a wind of diamonds hurled by the
terrestrial heart eternally carbonized for uso world!
(Far from the old retreats and old flames you hear, you feel.)
Infernos and foams. Music, tack of gulfs and shocks of ice and
O sweetness, o world, o music! And there, the forms, sweat, hair
and eyes, floating. And the pallid tears, boilingo
sweetness!and the feminine voice coming to the deeps of
volcanos and arctic grottos.
The golden sunup and the trembling evening find our brig lying
off this villa and its outbuildings as extensive as Epirus and
the Peloponnesus, or the big island of Japan, or Arabia! Fanes
lit up by the return of processions; immense views of the defense
of modern coasts; dunes illustrated with hot flowers and
bacchanals; grand canals of Carthage and Embankments of a shady
Venice; mushy eruptions of Etnas and crevasses of flowers and
waters of glaciers; wash houses ringed by German poplars,
singular park embankments bending down the Tree of Japan; and the
circular fašades of the "Royal" or the
"Grand" of Scarborough and Brooklyn; and their railways
flank, cross, overhang the arrangements of this Hotel, chosen in
the history of the most elegant and the most colossal
constructions of Italy, America and Asia, whose windows and
terraces, at present full of lights, drinks and rich breezes, are
open to the spirit of travelers and noblemenwho permit,
during daylight hours, all the tarantellas of the coastsand
even ritornellos from the illustrious valleys of art to decorate
marvelously the fašades of the Promontory-Palace.
Ancient Comedy pursues its accords and divides its Idylls:
A long wooden pier from one end to the other of a rocky field
where the barbaric crowd mills under bare trees.
In corridors of black gauze, following the steps of promenaders
with lanterns and leaves,
Birds from the mystery plays swoop down upon a masonry pontoon
moved by the covered archipelago of spectators' small craft.
Lyric scenes, accompaniment with flute and drum, bow in
cubbyholes managed under ceilings around modern club salons or
halls of the ancient Orient.
The extravaganza maneuvers to the summit of an amphitheater
crowned with a coppiceor bustles and modulates for
Boetians, in the shade of trees moving, at the edge of farmlands.
The comic opera divides on our stage at the edge of ten
partitions set up from the gallery to the footlights.