Six Lipsius Street: Was your Alexandria the sea? Or was it the turn To where the alley narrows And dispenses a flimsy Light like the gloss on boiled snails. May be your Alexandria was this door That I cannot see. May be it was the mumbling that trembled at the lips But were never released… May be the vase Or the palace terrace where the god Forsook Antony… Six Lipsius Street: Where the Greeks of night come from? Where did this wine come from? Where is this stumbling song come from? And this broken Boozooki? And this air that is Alas,Alas, This air airing its Ah ,Ah ? Six Lipsius Street: The balcony darkens … The room withdraws into the wardrobe mirror, The shirt flies to the sea And the sea is absent.. If you are Antony , wait then… May be from the shards of the mirror A god will rise and call your namne. Tunis 12.2.1990
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