The Ruba'Iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Eighteen

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Eighteen Even as the lower rubbed its dazed eyes over Her hillocks The light-foot Lass of Lahore made her way past the boating docks Past the Marie’s dank reedy banks over Her heaving breast Tip-toeing over the complaining boards of Her nose-bridge locks Hugging a bottle labeled “OMAR” where Her bust cut an arc - A left-behind lame garden warbler tweeted its dirge dark While the doe-eyed Lass tilted the bottle at the water’s edge - Her own secret message to save the Sufi Khayyam from wreck: “Oh! Illustrious Beacon of the Saljuk Empire! Pray! Let me so much as I might deign to sing sans lyre! The WORD is out: Your Eminence’s proscribed by penal mettle: The Republic’s Procureur Général wants you in pyre!” “Your humble sister begs your esteemed bardic indulgence: Two fitful summers gone past we did cross each other’s presence Me a mere slip of a girl from yon Ghaznavid Empire Heard the clamorous reed warbler’s Himalayan penance!” “This bottle with the missive I know the Lady of the Lake Will to you waft: tidings dire as to keep me awake Through bitterly biting lonesome nights you stumble and rove: Take heed! POLICE cycle-brigades have tripled round the lake!” © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014