In a pirogue you set off and wander
In the season of the fury of the rain
To the land of the Visigoths you travel
Where hanging gardens win your heart
Yet you fret and rub your wings together
Salt covers your naked torso
I brought you sweet water from Delphi
You said your life will be torn asunder
And before I can deny you three
Rust overruns paradise’s key
A caravan gallops in the desert
To follow your wayward trail
How can the mind be soothed by linens
Or the Mediterranean be held by rope
Love--we called you Antigone
What nocturne fled with your light
And in what galaxy will I find you now?
This is Attiki -- a gray quarry
And I a second rate firing range
Where foreign troops cursing train