Paris, I am not going back to see you, sorry!
You were once beautiful, I haven’t forgotten that.
I recall your twilights, and those afternoons at the
Café de Flora; your Eiffel Tower, Arch de Triumph,
Your obelisk, — and Notre Dame, too!
Your river Seine, that seems to run backwards—
Dry and rustling, wet and rumbling, I’ve seen all
Your seasons! I’ve wandered about your streets:
My home away from home, but now Islam has turned you
Upside-down, into a walled-up cell, of blood and hell!
You’re not safe anymore! Yet everything falls!
All are prisoners in your cemented shell of a city, now:
A real madhouse: as is London, Brussels, all of Europe…
(in this year of 2016 A.D.)
#5124 (3-28-2016)
