All Saints' Day

Laudatus sum, sed interfectus sum,
Nunc ab hosti ipsis laudatus ero.


    I
Woken up in the morning, in Bruges
By the gray fuzz and afterglow, to the sound of drums-
Two clicks of a light switch,
Showered, filled mug, and out the door
To greet the coming day.

So go there now, in Chelsea boots, in Bruges
To the muddy banks of the Rhine,
Where you, my Charlemagne
Would like to hold me down and under,
by and down on the riverbed.

But red, red, the tanner's knife,
And the muddy banks of the Rhine,
Beneath the water's silent whirls,
There I would have thought to dare
To throw my ball and chain against the muddy undertow
Moving only as the current would,
But only if I'd dared.

But you'd know that I had loved you
And will love you,
And I would guide you by the waters,
And I too would write my own words in its surface,
While exiled in this vale of tears.

    II
Slowly while the vines creep across the peristyle,
We'd go together there (hand in hand):
With red, red, a cautious knife,
I but a meager hermit with cautious wife,
Would wish to climb in and bathe there in the fountain,
So that I too may taste the fruit
Here in our silent garden.

For I too will die from the wasting neurosis,
While tomorrow, in rouge, we'd be born again;
But there are no gods in this quiet corner,
Where the shower starts to drip,
And by and down the river's end,
Back in the silent garden.

With hyacinths we'd be buried there,
Amid the river bowered, and hand in hand,
We'd march along in this silent hour,
To the dried and sullied shores,
And stand there, like amber ships in a harbor,
Back there in the silent garden.

    III
Introductions, introductions, I believe
Could be in order on behalf of them,
From you to me, this dear old friend,
From there, a place of petty things
That shining place of petty things.

And come off the high of All Saints' Day,
Strung out to the tune of a starlet's high,
Strung out on another starlet's high,
With red, red, a practiced knife,
I would raise white flags,
Point at you and scream:
"A star! 
  A star!" 
Swaying in time to the pounding drums,
All in time to the sound of drums.

But what if indeed I did stoop forward,
And pulled by the moment and the rhythm of drums
Down onto a knee,
I'd raise my voice and call out in vain:

"Lady, oh lady, my lady of sorrows,
To you do I send up my sighs
As this body floats 'cross this river.
If you would please offer me your hand,
In time and grace for a time,
I from the river bed may reach across
When you fall back into place,
And aid you in our crossing."

And I too would try to guide you by the waters,
And I too would write my own words in its surface,
And written there in the river's stones:
         Musa, mihi causas memora, quo numine laeso,
         quidve dolens, regina deum tot volvere casus
         insignem pietate virum, tot adire labores
         impulerit. Tantaene animis caelestibus irae?

And the forest's song would linger on,
The sound of colors shining clear,
Shining bright and shining clear,
to greet the coming day.