Along the pavement, still wet from her tears
I glide mouth open collecting these tiny spheres
A window open, while locks of hair part revealing a face
Pale!, with all the signs of a saddening race

Out-of-control pace I turn back just in that space
Of slippery steps which quicken the race
In consoling her, a lovely face!, if only
A spiral blue staircase would appear at the curtain-base