Fair copper maiden of the dance,
Arms outstretched in supple repose,
Your chin is raised and you
face the sky,
A prayer for rain upon your lips.
In one hand you hold a copper lily,
The other is gently down-turned.
Your hair falls as a mass of leaves behind you,
Your torso and breasts are firm.
You are covered in coiling flowered ivy,
The only clothes that your maker bequeathed.
You stand in contrapose upon pillar-legs,
An ionic capital at your knee.
Your hip is also a capital,
And your foot is
raised as you twirl.
The planted foot is a staircase
That sits upon a tortoise shell.
The tortoise swims in an asphalt sea,
And, like you, is waiting for Spring to arrive.
Spring brings spouts of water
On
which your splendor thrives.
Soon, fair maiden, the season will change,
And water will frame you in resplendence.
The people will stop at the corner to see
As your soul burgeons in the dance.
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