[BNP/E3, 49A2 – 6]

Written in Lisbon, in January 1908

_______

The revolution rolled along the streets

In tumult and in {…}

     I looked above

There were the stars, silent, lone, cold,

     I felt a shrinking at heart.

And by a deep thought suddenly grown old

     Ached by an infinite[1] transient smart

Revolts

Wherefore all this?

But wherefore not?

 
[1] infinite /something\