Волны

           Itakestockofthisworld.Ilookamongthegroupsofunknownpeople.Amongthelustrousgreen,pink,pearl-greywomenstanduprightthebodiesofmen.Theyareblackandwhite;theyaregroovedbeneaththeirclotheswithdeeprills.Ifeelagainthereflectioninthewindowofthetunnel;itmoves.Theblack-and-whitefiguresofunknownmenlookatmeasIleanforward;asIturnasidetolookatapicture,theyturntoo.Theirhandsgoflutteringtotheirties.Theytouchtheirwaistcoats,theirpocket-handkerchiefs.Theyareveryyoung.Theyareanxioustomakeagoodimpression.Ifeelathousandcapacitiesspringupinme.Iamarch,gay,languid,melancholybyturns.Iamrooted,butIflow.Allgold,flowingthatway,Isaytothisone,"Come."Ripplingblack,Isaytothatone,"No."Onebreaksofffromhisstationundertheglasscabinet.Heapproaches.Hemakestowardsme.ThisisthemostexcitingmomentIhaveeverknown.Iflutter.Iripple.Istreamlikeaplantintheriver,flowingthisway,flowingthatway,butrooted,sothathemaycometome."Come,"Isay,"come."Pale,withdarkhair,theonewhoiscomingismelancholy,romantic.AndIamarchandfluentandcapricious;forheismelancholy,heisromantic.Heishere;hestandsatmyside.

           ’Nowwithalittlejerk,likealimpetbrokenfromarock,Iambrokenoff:Ifallwithhim;Iamcarriedoff.Weyieldtothisslowflood.Wegoinandoutofthishesitatingmusic.Rocksbreakthecurrentofthedance;itjars,itshivers.