On the southwest side of Capriwe found a little unknown grottowhere no people were and weentered it completelyand let our bodies lose alltheir loneliness.
All the fish in ushad escaped for a minute.
The real fish did not mind.
We did not disturb their personal life.
We calmly trailed over themand under them, sheddingair bubbles, little whiteballoons that drifted upinto the sun by the boatwhere the Italian boatman sleptwith his hat over his face.
Water so clear you couldread a book through it.
Water so buoyant you couldfloat on your elbow.
I lay on it as on a divan.
I lay on it just
Matisse's Red Odalisque.
Water was my strange flower,one must picture a womanwithout a toga or a scarfon a couch as deep as a tomb.
The walls of that grottowere everycolor blue andyou said, "Look!
Your eyesare seacolor. Look! Your eyesare skycolor." And my eyesshut down as if they weresuddenly ashamed.
