 
Nymphs 
Were plucking 
The pearls with thin porcelain fingers
When the time 
Drowned in the delicacy 
Of their sweetest play
And having followed the idyllic motions 
Floundering in the paradoxical combination 
Of changing shapes and instable visions 
It left the frail figure 
Dancing a tragic waltz 
In a heavy breathing 
Of a sobbing stream