The cigarette smoke loops and slides above us, 
Dipping and swirling as the waiter passes. 
You strike a match and stare upon the flame. 
The tiny firelight leaps in your eyes a moment 
And dies away as silently as it came. 

This melody, you say, has certain voices? 
They rise like nereids from a river, singing, 
Lift white faces, and dive to darkness again. 
Wherever you go you bear this river with you: 
A leaf falls, and it flows, and you have pain. 

So says the tune to you?but what to me ? 
What to the waiter, as he pours your coffee? 
The violinist who suavely draws his bow ? 
That man, who folds his paper, overhears it. 
A thousand dreams revolve and fall and flow. 

Someone there is who sees a virgin stepping
Down marble stairs to a deep tomb of roses:
At the last moment she lifts remembering eyes.
Green leaves blow down; the place is checked with shadows;
A long-drawn murmur of rain goes down the skies.
And oaks are stripped and bare, and smoke with lightning;
And clouds are blown and torn upon high forests;
And the great sea shakes its walls.
And then falls silence And through long silence falls
This melody once more:
Down endless stairs she goes, as once before.

So says the tune to him?but what to me? 
What are the worlds I see? 
What shapes fantastic, terrible dreams? 
I go my secret way, down secret alleys. 
My errand is not so simple as it seems.