Medicating in the sun,
Pinched doses of laudanum,
Longing for the old fecundity of my homeland.
Curses to this mirage!
A bottle of ancient Chiraz.
A smattering of distant applause
Is ringing in my poor ears.
On the old left bank,
My baby in a charabanc,
Riding up the width and length,
Of the Champs Elysees.
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