The little poplar leaves dozed, and the river grew drunk,
and we were on its bank, a band gathered round a singer.
One of the beauties stole glances at me,
while the chanter's cry kept drawing me away from her,
and a cup kept drawing me too — whenever I sipped it
it beamed, and made me forget yesterday and tomorrow.
So she bit her lip in pride, and shattered
my cup in her fist with the fury of a brawling drunkard,
and stretched out to me her hand, its wound bleeding
over what had splintered into scattered wreckage,
and said: Feign ignorance of my passion, you wretch,
and press on in your ignorance as you please, and more —
for to him who does not see in my eyes what inflames me,
I have carried the wound of my heart upon my hand.
São Paulo — February 1940
From the collection: "Every Flower Has a Fragrance"
As for the "Belle" hairstyle, meant for evenings, it waves according to the shape of the head, parts from the middle of the head, and a small folded braid disappears behind the neck.