His skiff is full of provisions –

Wine and cheese, sweet fruits,

An umbrella to shade lovers,

soft blankets for chilly nights,

an old mandolin.

 

There are mirages out here –

the call of sirens, chimeras of dry land,

adventures, bird song and ripe coconuts.

 

He saw the last lovers during the flood,

after all the promises had broken,

Pieces of a shipwreck,

swept away, reaching for each other

pulled apart.

 

The gondolier still sings to the stars

And to the old city

far below the mirror of the sea.