| I
Isadora cloudy and luminous,
in the savage fog,
and so ungainly,
how long was your hair
like a beheaded stork?
In which legend
did they tell you
to undo your hair?
II
In this spring
of insomniac sleeping pills,
you approach love
on tiptoe,
your body a circle where the velocity
of that which is earthly rests.
III
Your arms, beloved Isadora
are two domes where no time
finds its defeat,
like the most fleeting of fogs,
like the most opportune guest,
you turn your feet
into mouthfuls of smoke, reachable stars.
Your happiness is contagious.
Isadora, even the beggars,
the abandoned ladies,
the fish,
the women of vocation and idleness,
they clap with their skirts of water
when they see you Isadora, winged
with your ominous bones.
IV
Among the foliage beyond the light,
my beloved,
dressed in your suit of algae
where did you leave your crown of light?
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