74.

These floods blew through the streets

and bore away people like pillars

of salt and almost tore their hearts

and stopped their mouths, as though

the rains would never cease, and no

break in the clouds would promise

relief.

The wake and ebb

could hold no prediction. Ancient

chapels, paintings, frescoes, furniture

were borne away. Not even irony

could spare them, the dream of dry land.