Satanella (1932)/Chapter 1
Roderigo Gonvazales,
Knight of the Johannite order,
Wandered on his morning vigil
As had been his daily custom;
For the Isle of Rhodos was then
Bulwark of the Christian nations
'gainst the Godless Turkish heathen.
As he left the castle portals
He beheld a barefoot child there
Leaning 'gainst the massive entrance.
Tender body as if breathed
In a gaily colored bodice,
And her black hair hast'ly gathered
Underneath a snow-white kerchief.
Soon as Roderigo reached her,
Smilingly she lifted towards him
Eyes that burned as sparks of fire,
And she handed him a flow'ret,
Mountain flower strangely scented,
With white ribbons tied together.
Roderigo smiled in greeting,
Kissed the gaily colored blossoms,
Leaning over till his curls
Lightly touched upon her forehead,
From his lips escaped a question
As the scent escapes from flowers:
—Pretty child, what do they call you?
—Sir, they call me Satanella!
—Satanella? . . . What a strange name
Gallantly the knight retorted,
But full worthy that an angel
Bow before your Godly beauty!
And thereafter, every morning
At the same time, after daybreak,
Dusky, barefoot child would stand there
At the citadel's wide portals. . . .
Thus the knight received each morning
One lone flower, kissed its blossoms—
Thinking perhaps he was kissing
Satanella's lips so tender.
But one day, in early Autumn
Disappeared his Satanella,
As a bird from forest's shadows
As a golden bee from meadows . . .
Flying, mayhap, with the swallows.
But next year, when through the window
May exhaled sweet scent of roses,
She returned there with the first bird,
With first primrose of the meadows.
Soon the knight became accustomed
To the flowers and the kisses,
While his kisses often wandered
From the blooms to lips so tender,
Like the bees for honey hung'ring.
Thus, today, long winter over,
With the blooms came Satanella.
But, my heavens—child no longer
But a woman in full beauty.
Bud of amaranth no longer
Now a scented rose, dark colored:
Now a bashful child no longer
But a maid, eyes closed demurely
In a joyous, glad confusion.
Tender lips that were but segments
Of pale leaves of briar roses,
Now have opened in full blossom
For whose heavy, toxic nectar
One could die with endless yearning.
And the buds upon her bosom
Forward shot like restless billows
Till your head swam in a circle
Longing for a restful moment
On their dusky, silky velvet.
And her hair now closely braided
In three garlands round her forehead,
Like a frame about a picture;
Once released, would surely tumble
To her heels like waves of ocean.
But another transformation:—
At the gate she stood no longer,
But amidst the crowding masses
She was dancing in the market.
All around her, like an ocean
Colored caps and dusky features,
People shouting, noisy discourse
'twixt the tambourine and cymbal.
Like a lily twig, her body,
In her eyes a flame of lightning
Slender limbs in dancing, twirling
Like a leaf, when stirred by breezes.
Roderigo thus had seen her
In the market place this morning.
Saw all this, and all his being
Lost itself within his bosom.
All day long he heard resounding
"Satanella! Satanella!"
And at eve in contemplation
He would sit, o'er empty goblets
Cursing at his darkened cassock.
