deepundergroundpoetry.com
somewhere
somewhere
It is a beautiful morning in Cascais tourists are still asleep, as is my wife
A police car hastens through the Avenida and the young officers
who likes to drive fast through the empty streets?
Yesterday was a great day in Moscow, so many beautiful uniforms,
blue and gold
When young, I wanted to be a general but being petrified of things
like bullets flying through the air, I donned a white apron.
My days as a recruit in the royal navy were not a success: I do not
handle being given orders without protest.
So long time ago, now I sit on the terrace a seagull lands sit on
the railing and shrieks let it be nosy at it, wants, bravely I ignored
It demands of me not to sit where I sit.
It is a beautiful morning in Cascais tourists are still asleep, as is my wife
A police car hastens through the Avenida and the young officers
who likes to drive fast through the empty streets?
Yesterday was a great day in Moscow, so many beautiful uniforms,
blue and gold
When young, I wanted to be a general but being petrified of things
like bullets flying through the air, I donned a white apron.
My days as a recruit in the royal navy were not a success: I do not
handle being given orders without protest.
So long time ago, now I sit on the terrace a seagull lands sit on
the railing and shrieks let it be nosy at it, wants, bravely I ignored
It demands of me not to sit where I sit.
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