The peasant, floating the night's lake in his flat boat, is drawn to the far shore by strains of piano music. Old Pablo reaches the bank of an estate. He ties off his boat and cautiously enters a rose garden. He makes his quiet way to the great mansion and peers into an arched window.
Beautiful senoritas and gallant gentlemen are mingling, while the piano continues its evocative song. Old Pablo is filled with emotions for which he has no words. Youth, beauty, silk colors of held fans...this soirée of elegant grace! Soon, he knows, someone will recite a poem. Of true love meeting true love in the flushed bloom of life.
Old Pablo leaves the window. Tears would be too hurtful for his ancient eyes tonight. Back on his boat, under the cloudy moon, Old Pablo sighs, "Much better to float than to sink into one's dream. And this wine...this seductive wine...is my poem of poems!"
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