slows, stops occasionally.
Why don’t you accompany me to America?
on the embarcadero
Rome Prague London Nice Paris
Oxo-Liebig curls hair in your room
or I’ve lost my rose”
You’ve long written in the shadow of a picture
Of the Arabesque you thought
O you the happiest of all we
Rousseau has done your portrait
For 12 years only poet of France.