The Emperor Takes His EaseA Poem by Arezzo(after Victor Hugo) For the banished ones, of
stubborn resistance, France is far off. The tomb is near. But don’t worry,
Prince. Enjoy your existence. In the Bois de Boulogne,
chase deer, chase women in the
theatre. Rome’s burning incense for you. The Tsar calls you “frère”.
Play on, sweet Prince. You have swans in Compiegne and you have the wines of
Bordeaux. You seek novelty,
amusement? Why then, they’ll bring you
fourchettes from Les Baux. Swooning under your crown of
grapes, tiens! You’re something out of
Caravaggio.
The convicts are building
the lighthouse. Fine. So ordered, by the King. They’re casting bells on
foundry lines. In hellish heat, they’re
suffering. One day their light is going
to shine. Those bells are going to
ring.
So dawdle, dally. Have your fun. Put on your languid airs. The thread of your Fate’s
already spun. Who’s going to hear your
prayers? Who will save you? Where will you run, when the people take what’s
theirs?
© 2015 ArezzoAuthor's Note
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Added on September 23, 2015 Last Updated on September 23, 2015 AuthorArezzoRonda, Andalucia, SpainAboutI always try to avoid this part! What can I possibly say that will come across as fresh/interesting/informative? Let's see ... Teacher, lawyer and journalist. Born in Ireland, raised in Englan.. more..Writing
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