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Una poesia su Parigi di James Koller

9 Dic

Polypheme surprenant acis et galatée

The four of us sit  inside, Cafe Rostrand,
look out at le Jardins & the soft rain.
Alba is perched on books on a chair,
eats vanilla & atrawberry ice cream with a spoon.
Karl & Marielle are eating baked apple pie.
I wait for my onion soup.

The four of us finally walk across the street,
through the gateway, into the gardens,
under umbrellas, is raincoats.
Alba is delighted to play in the wet gravel.
Karl leads us to the fountain,
the statues of a naked man & woman,
lying togheter at water’s edge.
You & me, he says, turning to Marielle,
I’ thin, she says.

I suppose I am beast above,
trying hard watch it all.

As the four of us move from the gardens,
we look at the exhibition,
huge photos hung on iron fence.
I note one of wedding procession
heading of a finish line ribbon.

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