Begging For Lisbon

I walk my life, a subway station Where dirt consorts The air around. It pounds my nape, It flames my mind With sights and fates And sounds. Above, a tram goes up the alley Tinged with canary hue. Below, my wit: What void, what valley: It sank, in Tagus mused. I take a seat, doors screech behind. O, what wondrous whiffs? Of metal beams Attriting loudly Against metal wheels? To a halt it cuts my chain of thought, Rivals my dream, they brawl. 'Tis from the gallery Of broken hope The beggar man crawls. Intemperate horns his entry announce, Dysphoric scenes aground. He comes detuned Near clears his throat, Lethargic voice resounds: I beat my cane In wrongful rhythm, 'Cause wrongful Was my life. My voice hurts from All this singing: 'Twas morphed into A sigh. I longed, I longed For all my sinning Was ought to be repaid. Deserved so much, God took my Will, my sight, My love, my Name. So tell me, vagrant, What did He take? -Said I- Who has loved you? What is your will, What name did you go by? I used to be a man of soul Whose heart beat strong and dign, I used to write And then I died On the 10th before July. He took my coins for all my service At wars: At land At sea -The waves still have her, Laying there still, Waiting away from me!- Said he- I will my love, My fire, passion -My young Natercia!- Most darling of all nymphaea! So God is just after all, Replacing sin with grief. No need for me To pay the man: God has done the deed. The deadbeat coins of his cup Turmoil ever so slightly. I leave my dream, Doors shrill again: 'Tis time to end my journey.