Happy of heart I climbed the hill
To contemplate the town in its enormity,
Brothel and hospital, prison, purgatory, hell,

Monstrosities flowering like a flower.
But you, O Satan, patron of my pain,
Know I went not to weep for them in vain.

But like old lecher to old mistress goes,
Seeking but rapture, I sought out this trull
Immense, whose hellish charm resuscitates.

Whether in morning sheets you lie asleep,
Hidden and heavy with a cold, or flaunt
Through night in golden spangled veils,

Infamous City, I adore you! Courtesans
And bandits, you offer me such joys,
The common herd can never understand.