So that it spills on the table, and she with a delicate finger

Over its surface can draw circles in damp arabesque:

Her name entwining in mine, while my eyes most eagerly follow

All that her fingertip writes. She is of course well aware

That I am watching, so finally makes the V of the Roman

Five, with a virgule before. Quickly, as soon as I've seen,

She interlaces the circles, reducing them all to ornatest

Patterns--but still the sweet IV stood as engraved in my eye.

I sat there mutely and biting my passionate lips almost bloody

Half from delight at the ruse, partly from stifled desire:

Such a long time until dark, then another four hours of waiting.

--Sun, who tarries on high, contemplating Rome:

Greater never you've nor shall you in future see greater

Than Rome, O sun, as your priest, Horace, enraptured foretold.

Tarry no longer today. Go seek other realms beneath heaven.