A click of window glass had roused me Out of my sleep at early dawn. Beneath me Venice swam in water; A sodden pretzel made of stone. I was all quiet now; however, While still asleep, I heard a cry - And like a sign that had been silenced It still disturbed the morning sky. It hung - a trident of the Scorpion - Above the sleeping mandolins And had been uttered by an angry Insulted woman`s voice, maybe. Now it was silent. To the handle Its fork was stuck in morning haze. The Grand Canal, obliquely grinning Kept looking back - a runaway . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reality was born of dream-shreds Far off, among the hired boats. Like a Venetian woman, Venice Dived from the bank to glide afloat.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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