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The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Eight

At her feet gather daily plumage dark white to brown leather
Pigeons geese crows sparrows larks and wild ducks in sunset colour
And the resident owners of the waters by the fleet
The snow-white swan-lake ships gliding majestic in clover

Every day come older women with children or decrepit
With sling bags stuffed with golden crumbs of yesterday’s baguette
Some Berber women with sacks of semolina for couscous
All to seek good works at her feet where waves lap up and beat

Where the lazy louts of the spoilt winged clans wait on one leg
Pretend to keep an appointment though not to seem to beg
By rushing to providers with an air: hail dope well met!
Till some Labrador runs amuck just missing a juicy leg

Just then on that well-worn wooden bridge past the portcullis
Did Old Khayyam steal in a glance a wisp of a form bliss
Doe-eyed leaning on the rail in a gossamer negligee
The infinitely lamented thing that’s this lady all miss

Once more the Lass from Lahore lifts her dark diamond eyes
The breeze softly displaces the cowlick from vision’s disguise
Does she espy the Bard strain his thoughts fingers through his beard
While the Dreamer Dame of the lake leaves without much choice!
              © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013

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