2.

Toward the Plata, the reaching finally
geometric city of the poets,
city of bells at twelve o’clock,
Symbolists in the Neogothic tower,
so sweet city of slender trees
and Letters. Toward the Plata, finally,
but a white container proclaims
its proud belonging to Dock Sud,
to these dark wharfs, to its
very black and rusty waters.