Chapter XXIV

You spoke upon a sudden words like these
Towering above me in the crimson room
To anger stung by some word said too soon:
“_Aman terriblemente en mi país!_”
_Terriblemente aman en mi país!_
Cold sensuality’s not there the boon
We crave; instead, the force, fury of noon
Which like flame purifies impurities.

The whirlwinds gulfed me from your passion’s height
And swept me outward, ’cross a sea of night,
Night amethystine, purple, rich, and deep
Where multi-colored stars their watches keep
And sing in whirling splendor words like these—
“_Aman terriblemente en mi país!_”