I am the hub of all Paris,
The center of its spokes and wheels.
I am the point about which arrondisements spiral,
The direction of the Triumphal Way.
I am the words and bread,
The wine and wind,
The flowers hanging from Haussmann balconies.
I am the slow pull of the water
And the the stubborn push of the land.
I am the broad shoulders over which
The Seine is bent.
I am the toasts
I am the kiss
I am the one to whom St. Genevieve still points.