2020.10.06.
Salome
When I saw her linger along my avenueDespite my blind man's cane, I recognized her soon,
Her eyes dyed with a melodrama hue,
With Soul or Time, one
does what one can do
Was waiting at night behind the Factory
I was feeling my life
was an old magazine
The wind was real hot, Sky tinted with rouge,
She walked swaying like a boat that moved.
She came up to me to teach me my true part
When my solitude was really sad and hard.
I felt the thunderstorm
when I lost my voice,
Yet I was already spinning on the traces of Salome
There were in her bed a few Egyptian cards,
Then she asked me to guess which one was mine
Diving into my eyes, playful Siren,
I was her jester and she was my queen.
Before getting out, I stole all of her cards
I will make souvenirs
For her departing lovers.
She looked asleep, I thought she was dreaming,
My chance was too slim, had to preserve it.
On leaving, so funny, I made no noise at all
But saw the jester hang himself on a wall.
Then, when in the street,
At last I could breathe
It was raining but the midnight wind hummed a song for Salome
I hear that poor Oscar call for John the Baptist
to ask him if this Time that goes by exists
On the well-margin
When the bloke just cursed
The Shade in full noon,
No one understood.
Oscar went away in the equinox night
He just left behind his pair of boxing-gloves
Everything looked fine when the curtain rose.
The judges shouted : Room for the convicts.
All this may look a really strange story,
Its moral lies far, deep in my memory.
A Big woodblock will ring like an old Shield
When billows this wind, that used to talk to me of
Salome