Cycling

On the cycle path, pell-mell, in the dust,
We piled all our bicycles at our feet :
We were striving to wrap, stirred by life’s lust,
Our chunk of dignity with a bed sheet.
We had gotten off our bikes long before ;
We were altogether tears, sweat, and leaf lard.
We were chewing some occult stone and core
From cherries, apples, apricots, though hard.

We were many, we were young and naked.
Gloomy devils would burst with fattiness.
From an ivy bush, a cock blackbird aided
Calling mobs from the suburb beggarliness.

Oh, streetlights ! Oh, quaysides ! Blissful city !
Oh, whisperings at the house gates, at dusk :
In pinkish-white sefer tasi ditty,
Our smiling wives have brought all sorts to bask.

English version by Gabriela PACHIA