Lovers and tourists crowd Charles Bridge,
body by body, across the Vltava.
St. Nepomuk, that Jesuit scam,
is the central statue in the span.

Rub one of his dogs and make a wish.
I did, though I know it’s a pious fraud.
So justice and love shall beset all hearts,
starting tomorrow. But for today,

we shall keep as we are, the lovers and hawkers,
the pickers of pockets; till this dirty river,
the Vltava, the Moldau, shall run all altered,
eventually, to a true-blue Danube.