Poetic prose
(A very long poem written in free
verses)
FAREWELL AFTERNOON IN THE DREAM OF PARIS
(From a
translation of childhood)
FROM THE
NARRATOR: When I was a child, I once
found a letter from my father’s library, written by a man who said goodbye to
his love, one Isabelle, in the City of Paris
of the 1960s. It could have been my father, or any of his friends, and Isabelle was their dream
Parisian girl. I never asked my father
whether he was that young man, and who Isabelle was.
Instead, I began having this dream. In the
dream, I was the poet speaking these words.
Now, my
father is old and gray. Many of his friends are dead. Their dream city of
Paris is still there, but is it the
same? Where is Isabelle?
I had waited
for a long, long time, until I grew up, before I could write down these words, spoken for a time and
place that belonged to my father’s generation and his dreams. I wrote these
words down for what was gone, and perhaps what is left…
~~~́́́ ~~~
Who is
leaving the dreamy afternoon, down a deserted street?
Who is
gliding into the past, a misty river, in all that fantasy blue green, a la Parisien?
Farewell
afternoon, handkerchief whitening the gloomy sky
Paris afternoon, no tear, no laughter
Whose
departure?
A
little sun left on Isabelle’s hair
Undying
embrace
On a
silky scarf, imprints an I , color of
the rainbow, shape of a mermaid
Who
strolls down the sparkling Seine, like almond
eyes,
A
Viennese waltz, drunken melody
A navy
blue cab, passing by
A navy
blue awning
Color
of mint, in a champagne glass, in a heart
never
forgotten
But
farewell, yes farewell
Young
love, early love, Paris
The
Eiffel is drunk, too, tipping down in a whisper, Au Revoir
Farewell,
antiquated Sorbonne, like an old mother’s cracked skin
Painting
those blue veins on a wanderer’s wrists
Who is
leaving in yellow autumn when the afternoon dies
The
heart wilts, on wrinkled clothes after lovemaking in a jazz basement
Smoke-filled
St. Germains
Shadowing
into sunset
Sprinkling
tears into dusty rain
The
heart blossoming into a sunflower, upon Apocalypse
(Or
just a plastic-toy flower left in the garden of Luxembourg?)
Who
regrets a vow,
gathering
pieces of a heartbreak?
Who
follows sandy footsteps
on the
path of love, the path of departure?
Or a
windy boulevard leading to nowhere, without a soul?
Tomorrow
is a stream of mercury
falling
through cracks between fingers
But
today,
who is leaving on St. Michel?
A blond
strand of hair between red lips, like a dying rose
Who
plays Watteau’s Gabriel?
Oh yes
take my farewell
From my
gut, entangled love knots
In
oceanic tides, my psyche
Follow
you, like a dove’s wing, having seen a ripe autumn
Follow
you, on a college girl’s pair of legs
Traces
of wine stains, the color of Bordeau, on bulky sweater and a page of philosophy
Even a
mindless tourist would throw me a bloom
Follow
you, in waves of black coffee
dripping
from a silver spoon, like exile
Follow
you, upon Renoir’s cherry-blossom skin
And
Prevert’s breath, greener than the vert
of green beans
In the
Louvre and upon the gray Aubervilliers
Find a
laborer’s life, his smoke-stained apron flying toward the subway
Who
knows the eight directions of love-filled river Seine?
Those
early morning snow flakes, like a forest of white dogwoods
Give me
a pot of hot coffee
For a
pair of souls
Blond
and black
Building
a sand castle, on the North Sea shore, a vow
lasting a millennium
Lusty
afternoon, drunken afternoon, in a Verlaine
pub
In
streams of Rikle poetry, nostalgia
In the
black iris of the Mediterranean girl
Bright
like Sorrento
sky
Dark
like Pegasus’ shadow
Who
knows where the night’s sorrow goes
To
liberate a self, in solitude
A
spiritual pregnancy imprisoned in wax
I would
seize the paper-thin ivory skin of Madame Beautiful, Bella Senora, into
my heart’s story
In
between pages of a Sonata caught my intellect
Blow me
out, wind of the Seine, that downstream of
hair
I would
still walk, leisurely like an aristocrat
My
heavenly freedom and God-given liberty
I would
still walk, like the young lad of the east named Thoi
Vast
like the Red River
Originating
in Tibet
Torching
a Japanese tea garden
Melting
the North Pole
With
heat from the Equator
But
tonight, who bears the exiled queen’s spirit, trapped in the ruins of Champa’s
abandoned temples
Remembrance
for the roses of Fontenay
The
halls of Sorbonne turn into my sea
Or the
pastorale of Montsouris
Remembrance,
hands, feet and souls parallel in the center of St. Lazare
Farewell
afternoon, where golden light christening on your hair, the fragrance of rice
wine and fermented wheat
But
tonight
The
bordering trees of Champs Elysees bearing
their fruits
Ruby
red or emerald green
All in
your eyes, octagon or the five edges of a star
The
neighborhood of Auteuil becoming your jungle or my river raft
Your
lips, too,
Becoming
the stones of the Great Wall
Farewell
despair
And who
are you
Crooked
soul yearning to build the universe outside Chagall’s window
Your
silky hair entrapping the Eiffel tower under that full moon sketching your
shoulder blade
And
your eyes, white lily, black orchid in a cello’s sound, all in the valley of
your palms
And
your thoughts, like the veins of wood and the shine of marble in Versailles
Like
the curve of Cinderella’s slipper after a Chaillot banquet
In a
slender champagne glass I float the verses of Appollinaire
Yet I
see
lovers
drinking from the Yang Tze river, farewell, their pond of tears
A
thousand-mile separation
Missing
you, lifetime illusion
But
tonight, airport night
My
young love
Thought
I could walk with you till the sun’s suicide
Your
arms grow roots around me
Your
feet break my walls, your face sinks into my heart
I want
to drink up your mouth, Isabelle Isabelle
All of Paris, in you, and in the
night
Sever
our links, into strangers
Go with
the wind, into my remembrance of Paris
On my
death bed, the afternoon swoons
I lean
on the night, my tomb
In
wilderness, my soul walks on uneven steps, toward the desert of my thoughts
Leaping
upon airport crowds, toward birth and death
My five
fingers like winter branches, drawing pain and evening dews
Those
spiral question marks, in dead-end alleys
Numbing
my soul
Who is
leaving
alone,
passing barricades of the past?
Burning
fire of the future
packing
white clouds
into
the intestinal routes inside a volcano
Looking
for liquefied rocks, with the compass of life
Oh
old-time autumn in tidal afternoon, unending tears
Across
oceans and upon a aerial way
No
guiding light, just the myth of galaxy
But
tonight
Red,
green and yellow lights
become
decorating flowers for the airway
Where
is our last night’s feast,
Or just
our separation?
But
tonight
The
eagle tilts its silver wings
mourning
for the one who leaves his heart on the steps of Sacre Coeur
All of
a sudden,
Dawn
arrives, a radiant smile
For
Gabriel Paris
Farewell
Paris
But no,
no, no farewell!
Au
revoir instead, meaning I will see
you again
I will
find you
Amid a
forest of flower trees
The end
is here, young love Paris
I
salute you
Au
revoir,
and
rebirth,
Paris
UND
February 2002
