.
[JS2] Playing her parchment moon
Precosia comes
along a watery path of laurels and crystal lights.
[JS3] The starless silence, fleeing
from her rhythmic tambourine,
falls where the sea whips and sings,
his night filled with silvery swarms.
[JS4] High atop the mountain peaks
the sentinels are weeping;
they guard the tall white towers
of the English consulate.
[JS5] And gypsies of the water
for their pleasure erect
little castles of conch shells
and arbors of greening pine.
[JS6] Playing her parchment moon
Precosia comes.
The wind sees her and rises,
the wind that never slumbers.
[JS7] Naked Saint Christopher swells,
watching the girl as he plays
with tongues of celestial bells
on an invisible bagpipe.
[JS8] Gypsy, let me lift your skirt
and have a look at you.
Open in my ancient fingers
the blue rose of your womb.
[JS9] Precosia throws the tambourine
and runs away in terror.
But the virile wind pursues her
with his breathing and burning sword.
[JS10] The sea darkens and roars,
while the olive trees turn pale.
The flutes of darkness sound,
and a muted gong of the snow.
[JS11] Precosia, run, Precosia!
Or the green wind will catch you!
Precosia, run, Precosia!
And look how fast he comes!
A satyr of low-born stars
with their long and glistening tongues.
[JS12] Precosia, filled with fear,
now makes her way to that house
beyond the tall green pines
where the English consul lives.
[JS13] Alarmed by the anguished cries,
three riflemen come running,
their black capes tightly drawn,
and berets down over their brow.
[JS14] The Englishman gives the gypsy
a glass of tepid milk
and a shot of Holland gin
which Precosia does not drink.
[JS15] And while she tells them, weeping,
of her strange adventure,
the wind furiously gnashes
against the slate roof tiles.