The Ruba'Iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Eleven

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Eleven Once a wounded turtle dove ground out its pain in a bare poplar When autumn sunset bid bitter farewells to the lone star Three black liana lassies trudging homeward swayed to strains: ‘It’s not a second, Seven seconds away,’ from Africa One swore she saw the Bard linger by the reedy marshes ‘Just as long as I stay, I’ll be waiting,’ at her haunches Where the Préfecture’s tinted glasses ricochet sunset sadness Where the long low wooden wharfs burst pyrotechnic gushes Here where her weedy mud periods foul barnacled autumns Where sharp shafts of icicles shoot shut her twitching bottoms And in her gripping gash the killing cold relent geothermal Sweet Nature yet watches over the Maudite Maid of Dungeons Where the Bard of the lost astral eye keeps vigil in his tent Astral pebbles skim over her sleek seductive juicy rent “Ghalatan Ghalatan hami ravad ta bun-i-ku” No sign of her release at day’s end when autumn’s old and spent Oh! Stay yet with Ol’ Khayyam! Ye! Dream-tongued Lass of Lahore Lest he pine waste away let dry poesy’s wine ever more While the lush Maiden of the Main dreams on for all silver tongues The stuff of such dreams as stuff universal words into Law! © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013