She sits upon the pavement; stares at glass As Fortune comes to settle in her hand. She'll speak the spirits' tongue and understand Not why the spectres make their stony pass Like silent stars in night wind's chilling blast. That gifted speech is scorned by ghost men - and She sits upon the pavement; stares at glass As Fortune comes to settle in her hand Wreathed in smoke, mad eyes which roll so fast See no silk daybreak leave horizon's band. Before her - jokers, aces, hearts are fanned -She sits upon the pavement, lost in glass.