My Carnations on the Balcony

Today I planted carnations, in the little pot, on my balcony overlooking the sea...

And I sat contemplating my carnations, looking with the eye of my imagination toward their near tomorrow — the day these carnations bud and light the darkness of my narrow balcony...

And I shall be alone with them, sipping my coffee, gazing through them at the waves of the sea breaking coquettishly on the age-old rocks beneath our house!

I heard them murmuring in my ear — these carnations not yet born — that they would inspire in me beautiful, limpid thoughts, with which my imagination has long been astir, but which still lie buried there in turmoil and perplexity!!

... Tomorrow spring will come, and from atop its slender stems a red carnation will look out at me, eyeing me with warmth and temptation, and teaching my heart strength and heat and revolt!

... But this fire in my blood will subside the day the white carnation opens, turning me back from my straying... and teaching my heart the purity and the chastity that know neither desire nor revolt...

... And when spring dies, and its colors and its perfumes vanish with it, my red carnation will wither and die, and nothing will remain in the pot but my white carnation, lifting its head proudly to the sky — behind it the blue sea and its white waves.