Classic Poem

The curved leaves of the little tree are shining;
the bushes across the street are purple with flowers.
A man with a red beard talks to a woman with yellow hair;
she laughs like the clash of brass cymbals.

Two Negresses are coming down the street;
they munch lettuce
and pull the leaves slowly out of a bag.

The pigeons wheel in the bright air,
now white, now the grey backs showing.
They settle down upon a roof;
the children shout, the owner swings his bamboo.