Armies of the night have laid siege to this city tonight. Their flares overpower even the reflections of the winter stars gleaming over the black silk of our river of meetings, and of drownings.

Or this is what I think in this loveless state, in which the days drop sapless and swift like autumn leaves, and the nights are full of echoes of the revelers' fireworks.

Note: Originally scribbled on 2007:02:18, on a brochure of the Royal Ontario Museum, in front of this wonderful Japanese print; words of longing that have grown much darker when transcribed this Friday evening, in which I pace like Rilke's panther, in this city I can't leave