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.