A boat-man passed with wide strides in the light-blue
young, suntanned, ample in his body, brutish,
he turned to the quay towards the jetty. The echo
of his big, wet soles was heard all over the harbour.
And then, the lights of the quay, the old houses, the
faded window shutters,
despite their rusted hinges, the dust and the spiders
were ready for dawn. And truly the sun came up;
its rosy and grey colour curled around the cranes
of the quay
like the hair of a woman after her bath.