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Poem	Half past twelve. Time has gone by quickly since nine o'clock when I lit the lamp and sat down here. I've been sitting without reading, without speaking. Completely alone in the house, whom could I talk to? Since nine o'clock when I lit the lamp the shade of my young body has come to haunt me, to remind me of shut scented rooms, of past sensual pleasure - what daring pleasure. And it's also brought back to me streets now unrecognizable, bustling night clubs now closed, theatres and cafes no longer here. The shade of my young body also brought back the things that make us sad: family grief, separations, the feelings of my own people, feelings of the dead so little acknowledged. Half past twelve. How the time has gone by. Half past twelve. How the years have gone by.
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