I'll go to the island of Cythera
On foot, of course,
I'll set out some May evening,
Light as a feather,
There where the goddess is fabled to have risen
Naked from the sea --
And instead, jump over the park fence
Where the lilacs are blooming
And the trees are feverish with the new leaves.
The famous swing,
I saw in a painting once,
Is surely around here,
And the one in a long white dress,
With the eyes blindfolded
As she gropes my way down
A winding path
Among masked companions
Wearing black capes and carrying knives.
It's just the story of unrequited love,
I'll say to them
After they empty my pockets.
Oh love, running off with my wallet
An a Chinese lantern
In the evening darkness.
--Charles Simic
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