I fall in love with you, Paris, time and time again,
And break sharp heels in Tuileries.
You are the elements- Palada takes Cassandra in her hands
And a bronze horse crowds my hazy dreams.
O Lord, give a hand to a clamouring mind
Not to grief over slipping existence;
And please, do not ask for someone’s unexpected love
Or sing the love sonnet to every lunatic acquaintance;
Because Paris is a magical barrel-organ,
A merry-go-round with tinklers devoid of consciousness.
Only the turbulent wind rises over the Seine in gothic ridged silhouette.

I did not embrace a beloved there
In front of the blazing fire in the chimney-piece;
But my soul met the kindred soul of a poet
And we both fall in love with you, Paris, time and time again.