London by Night
To a young foreigner…
Did you ever walk by London, at night, alone ?
Just walk, just contemplate the city, it’s magic !
You could wander forever, maybe, nostalgic.
Admire : the streets, the clouds, the jewels of the Crown…
They are all there before your feet, it’s infinite,
In that sense you could not, I believe, in your life,
See all of these, for sure… Be it haven, or strife,
Be it loom or a joy, a grey dusk, dark, or light…
Follow this way : you reach, out of Tate Modern,
By the waters, Southwark, the Globe, then Tower Bridge.
Cross to Saint Kathrine Docks, stay a while on a bench…
Walk backwards, reach Saint Paul, there’s a pub where to quench,
Meet an old mariner there, tell him you are lige,
To the blessed Kings of France !
Pay him, leave this tavern…
Love letter to a friend
On these banks by the Thames river, when tide is low…
There’s a strand of wet sands, dirty and abandoned,
To the nostalgia of dreamers in London,
For anyone could walk there… Often I did so.
On a misty – foggy I would say – dawning hour,
Once I left a letter to you, Bobbie, my dear !
On a clutch. In a pouch. By the bank. As you near,
The point of view where you admire our great Tower.
Please, go pick my letter, in a crack in cement !
It has been here for years, waiting for you old friend…
When you climb at the scale, just above a garment.
Who knows ? Unless I do ! There are told our secrets…
When sun rises, a beam on metal, lets you find,
Our love letter – prudence, cherished ! Be delicate.
