Paris

"Oh, Kaye!" chats about Paris (originally posted at Jungle Red on 9/3/2017)

In case you haven't heard, I'm going to Paris.

My first trip to Paris.

F  i  n  a  l  l  y ! 

If you haven't heard, then I have to assume you don't live on Planet Earth since I've even been stopping complete strangers on the street for the past year to share my news.

Yes, yes, yes - I'm a bit of a pain in the neck when I'm excited about something.  I know, I know.  I can just go on and on and on about it all until I am on a person's last nerve.  Believe me, former husbands loved pointing out what a pain in the neck I could be.

But.

It's my first trip, so you know, I deserve to be excited, right?!

Oui!

Luckily, Don Barley finds my enthusiasm to be more of a plus than a minus.  Suffice to say, he is one of the good guys.  One of the best.

But, Don Barley is not going to Paris with me.

I'm going with three women friends.

Lesa Holstine -  I think some of you might know my friend Lesa.  

And long, long time very dear friend, Vickie Smith.

And new friend to me, but very long time friend of Vickie's, Lisa Butler.

We've rented a wonderful house through Airbnb that Vic found for us.  

It's in Montparnasse.  And as it turns out, not far from the home of Jim Haynes.

Some of you are probably familiar with Mr. Haynes, but for those of you who are not, "nearly every Sunday for the past 30 plus years, Mr. Haynes, a Louisiana-born expatriate, has opened the doors of his former sculpture studio in Paris and invited the world to come dine in largely the same spirit."

There are several articles, and videos, about him on the web, including an interesting one from The New York Times.  

I am fascinated by Jim Haynes.  He has, however, been experiencing some health issues and is quite elderly, and I'm not sure the dinner parties will continue.  But.  We'll see.  Right now his webpage says to check back in September. 

But.  Who knows . . .  perhaps we'll see him sitting on his front step and we can say "Hey!"  That would be cool.

And, oh my, have we planned some adventures!

We will, of course, do many of the things you're supposed to do as atourist in Paris. A boat trip down the Seine to watch the city light up in the evening, a trip to Versailles and Giverny.  Wandering through Montmartre, Latin Quarter, Saint-Germain, and Marais, and ice creamat Berthillon's on Île Saint Louis.  

And, this is timely, seeing as how there was an interesting piece here just a few days ago by Vicki Stiefel about tattoos.  

I have two tattoos and have considered another.  And have considered having it done while in Paris.  I've Googled and found tattoo parlors in Paris and I've Googled ideas for French tattoos.  

Some of these ideas are lovely, some are a bit too-too for my taste.  But.  I'll keep you posted . . .   It would, after all, be a souvenir that doesn't require any luggage space.

While checking our Parisian tattoo parlors, there will be much to do.  Much to see.

SO much to do and see, including a booklover's mecca  -  Shakespeare & Company

Because I'm one who believes, quite firmly, in stopping for a few minutes to live in the moment, where better to do this than some of the glorious parks, gardens, and squares in Paris?

One very small, very special, square is not far at all from Shakespeare & Company.

Square René Viviani

Besides having a lovely green area with benches on which to sit and rest your weary soul, and tired ol' feet, you get one of the best views of Notre Dame.

And, you get to quietly commune with the oldest living tree in Paris.  And, I have a "thing" for trees - wonderful old stately trees.  I seek them out, and they speak to me.  

Also, because of the way things are in our world right now, it's become important for me to think about things with a little more reflection than maybe I once did.  For that reason, while in Square René Viviani, I'd very much like to spend a quiet moment at a "sculpture decorated with stags’ heads and water drops that represent aspects of the legend of St. Julien. In addition, there are infants, some of whom have wings while others appear to be lifeless. Under the Vichy government (the govenment of France that collaborated with Nazi Germany from 1940 till 1944) more than 11,000 infants were deported by the Nazis to Auschwitz because they were Jewish. About one hundred of these children lived in the vicinity of this square in the 5th arrondissement. "

11,000 infants deported by the Nazis to Auschwitz because they were Jewish.  We need, I think, to be remembering this right now.

And, while we have agreed on many things we'll be doing together, there are some things that some of us want to do that others don't - like The Catacombs, for instance. 

And on those days we'll head off in different directions and meet back in our courtyard to chat and giggle about our day over a glass of wine and decide where to go for dinner.

Each of us agree that in addition to some planned outings, we also love the art of flâneusing, and allowing serendipity to have her way with us.

(anyone here read Lauren Elkin's "Flaneuse?"  I recommend it).

Museums, Gardens, Eating, and Shopping, oh my!

We're only going to be there a week, so we'll miss a lot and probably will just have to go back another time . . .  bless our hearts.

Actually, Vickie and Lisa have been before so Lesa and I are counting on them for a lot of their Parisian knowledge.

We're also planning some "different" sorts of adventures.

While Lisa and Vickie are doing a wine and castles tour, Lesa and I are having breakfast with the giraffes at the Parc Zoologique de Paris.

Doesn't that sound fun?

I can't wait.

And we're treating ourselves to a 1920's style photo session.

One of the interesting, but lesser known, things in Paris I want to see isLe Passe-Muraille - 'the man who walks through walls'. It is a larger than life bronze statue representing a man half trapped in a stone wall. 

And, I want to go to Deyrolle

And, I'd like to see Rimbaud's poem, Le Bateau Ivre (The Drunken Boat) on a Parisian wall

And I intend to ride, and photograph, every carousel I can find.  

Including the Dodo Carousel, which is actually the Carousel of Extinct and Endangered Animals, and it's located in the Jardins des Plantes.  

I would very much like to visit at least one of the
les passages couverts (18th century glass-roofed shopping galleries).  

You can take a tour of them here



AND, I hope I can find and photograph The Angel of Rue de Turbigo

I've always been fascinated by architectural details.  What better place to find and photograph some of the most exquisite, magicalarchitecture than Paris.  I will be in my own little version of heaven.

Windows and Doors and Angels, oh my!

I know I've already told you about some of the reading aka "research"I've been doing for the past year.

(Speaking of research.  Did you know there are apps you can load on your phone that will tell you where the closest public restrooms are?!  Well.  There are.  And, that's important stuff.)

I'm pretty sure I've told you how I've been saving my pennies 'cause a gal needs to be prepared for shopping while in Paris.

Excusez-moi, combien est ce foulard, s'il vous plaît?

Right?

Oui !

And I've probably told you about this delightful little book!

The Little Black Book of Paris.  

I adore this little book!

A small (4-1/4 inches wide by 5-3/4 inches high)  guidebook from Peter Pauper Press (https://www.peterpauper.com/product_info.php?products_id=5808). 

It's full of helpful information (and a lot of very funinformation!)

It's broken down into chapters by neighborhoods, but not necessarily arrondissements.  

Each neighborhood chapter has sections on landmarks, arts and entertainment venues, restaurants, cafes, hotels, chic shops, andafter-dark stops along with a fold out map for each neighborhood.

There are also some blank pages for adding notes.  Thus comes my only complaint - not enough blank pages, so I ended up making use of the margins on many pages, thanks to friends telling us about their favorite places to shop, to eat, to have hot chocolate, etc. (Daniel Hale saysdefinitely Cafe Marly for hot chocolate) 

And by the way, Dear Travelers - Paris is not the only city with its own Little Black Book . . .  do check them out!

Another favorite book is this one, and I can't recommend it enough.  Even if you're not planning a trip to Paris, it's one you might enjoy

Due to all this "research," I have read a LOT about Paris during this past year, fiction and non-fiction.  So, I have, of course, ended up with  ahuge list of recommendations, but I'll be posting that in a separate piece for those who are interested.

Except -

I have to tell you about this one.

A Paris All Your Own - Bestselling Women Writers on the City of Light

Contributing authors include Paula McLain, Therese Anne Fowler, Melissa Shapiro, Jennifer Coburn, Maggie Shipstead, Lauren Willig, Cathy Kelly, Rachel Hore, Meg Waite Clayton, Ellen Sussman, M. J. Rose, Susan Vreeland , Megan Crane, Michelle Gable, J. Courtney Sullivan, Julie Powell, Jennifer Scott,  AND our very own Cara Black. Edited by Eleanor Brown.  

"These Parisian memoirs range from laugh-out-loud funny to wistfully romantic to thoughtfully somber and reflective."

Speaking of our Cara.  She'll be leading one of her wonderful Aimee Leduc tours in Paris the same week we're going to be there, so we're going to be sitting in the audience in the tearoom at WHSmith while Cara talks about "Murder in Saint-Germain."

We're all pretty excited.

And guess what?

WHSmith has also ordered a few copies of my "Whimsey."

Am I excited about seeing MY "Whimsey" on a shelf in a bookstore in Paris?

Pfffffft.

Well, yes.  Yes, I am.

But, did I tell you about my travel journal?

Right up front I'm going to admit making a mistake with this, but . . . 'tis done.

To those of you who love, use and appreciate a really nice journal, use a fountain pen and enjoy painting sketches in addition to writing - this is not the journal for you.

Debs will be one of the first to agree with me.

I got this leather bound journal on-line for not much money - $10 or $12 maybe.  And it is pretty.

But.

The paper is thin so forget using a fountain pen or paints.  Not only is going to soak through the page, it's going to soak through the next page too.  It is no Iona journal (darn it!). 

But it's working out okay now that I've discovered it's flaws.  One has to learn from one's mistakes, right?

I'm working with crayons and colored pens (ballpoint only!) andcolored pencils illustrating some pages and jotting down some thoughts  before we get to Paris.

I'm like a kid with stickers, so yes, lots of stickers too.

I'm an on again/off again journaler, and have been all my life.  Rememberthose little leatherette diaries with the lock?  Santa brought me a new one every year. 

One thing I have always been is a journaler when traveling.

This was in Greece many, many years ago.  When I go back and read the journal I kept for that trip, it's almost like being there.  It's enough to make me know that I will, one of these days, go back.

Sometimes while journaling, I might sketch a scene - it does not matter that I can't draw worth a diddly - I do it anyway.  


Sometimes I'm just capturing a thought.  Or writing down a quote, or apiece of poetry, or just a quick phrase that touches me in some way.


And because I'm excited about this trip, I've started my journal early.

See what I mean about not being able to draw?  I can't even color!  But.  You know what?  It doesn't matter.  It's all fun and creating is good for us.

And -

Stickers rock!

especially 3D stickers!  Who knew?!

Okay.


Packing.


Packing is hard.

Especially for some of us who are "nesters" and feel we need to have everything we own with us wherever we go.

So, I did a "practice pack."

Here's a couple pictures of some of the things I pulled out of the closet to choose from.

Casual little black dresses (okay - and, one little red dress) to be perked up with accessories.

I just grabbed some and tossed them onto the bed.

Then I decided what I'd wear on the plane, put a couple things back into the closet, and with the help of space bags, I packed up clothes, shoes,jammies, toiletries and undies.  And a few, very few, pieces of jewelry.


Resulting in . . . 


Ta DA ! ! !

One under-the-seat bag and a backpack.

Yes.  For real.  

Five little black dresses, one little red dress, two pairs of shoes, leggings,scarves, reversible cape, undies, jammies, travel size toiletries and make-up.  Space bags rock. 


However,

Once I proved to myself I could do this, I changed my mind.

What about souvenirs?!  I am not coming home from Paris without souvenirs (besides that "possible" tattoo, that is). 

Excusez-moi, combien, s'il vous plaît?


So.  I'm sticking with the small under-the-seat bag, but forgetting the backpack and carrying a tote/purse on the plane with me.  I have a smallsuitcase that would fit in the overhead, but, truth be told, I think I'm going to just check it.  I'll have really necessary items in my purse/tote and/orsmall under-the-seat bag. 

It's non-stop from Charlotte International to Paris, and if my suitcase gets lost for a couple days, I'll be okay.  If it gets lost for the entire week, I'll consider it a shopping emergency. 😊  

In Paris.  😍

A. Shopping. Emergency. In. Paris. 



Okay, so now, Dear Reds, I know most of you have already taken your very first exciting trip to Paris, and many of you have been back many times.

So, how about some sharing of your favorite places.

In particular . . .

Best crepes!

Best macarons!

Best coffee!

Best hot chocolate (Is it Cafe Marly like Daniel Hales says?)!

Best beef bourguignon!

Best breakfast!

Your favorite patisserie, boulangerie, cafe, bistro, restaurant?

Favorite place to shop - for clothes, for lingerie, for perfume, for stationery, for books, for small souvenirs to bring home for friends and family, for antiques, for jewelry, for scarves, for shoes?

Your favorite night spot for music?

Your favorite small art gallery?

Your very favorite thing ever about Paris !!!

Remembering New Orleans - Palace Cafe Crabmeat Cheesecake

It's impossible to visit New Orleans and not eat well.  This, however, was probably my favorite meal.

Crabmeat Cheesecake
Palace Café
Serves 8

Palace Cafe's Crabmeat Cheesecake

Pecan Crust

• 1/4 cup pecans
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 5 tablespoons butter, cold
• 3 tablespoons ice water

Filling

• 1/2 cup onion, small diced
• 1 tablespoons butter
• 4 oz crabmeat
• 8 oz cream cheese, room temperature
• 1/3 cup Creole cream cheese or sour cream
• 2 each eggs
• 1 tablespoons hot pepper sauce (we use Crystal brand hot sauce)
• Kosher salt and white pepper to taste

Meuniere Sauce

• 1 each lemon, peeled and quartered
• 1/2 cup Worcestershire sauce
• 1/2 cup hot pepper sauce
• 1/4 cup heavy whipping cream
• 1 lb Butter, cold, cut into small cubes
• Kosher salt and white pepper to taste

Garnish

• 2 cup sliced mixed wild mushrooms
• 3 tablespoons butter, softened
• 24 each crab claw fingers
• Kosher salt and cracked black pepper to taste

Preparing the Pecan Crust

Preheat oven to 350°. Finely grind pecans in a food processor. Add flour and salt. Mix well. Transfer to a large mixing bowl and cut in butter, working butter into flour with two knives until dough is in crumbs the size of small peas. Add ice water and evenly incorporate into the mixture, which should remain fairly crumbly. Roll out dough to an 1/8" thickness on a lightly floured surface. Press dough into a lightly greased 9" tart pan, starting with the sides and then the bottom. Bake crust for 20 minutes or until golden. Note: dough can be made ahead of time. If doing so, wrap dough tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate. Allow dough to come to room temperature before rolling out.

Preparing the Filling

Sauté onion in butter until translucent. Add crabmeat and cook just until heated through, then remove from heat. Blend cream cheese until smooth in a mixer fitted with a paddle or by hand using a wooden spoon. Add Creole cream cheese and mix well. Mix in eggs one at a time. Gently fold in crabmeat mixture. Stir in hot sauce and season to taste with salt and white pepper. Spoon filling into prepared crust. Bake at 300° for 30-40 minutes or until firm to the touch.

Preparing the Meuniere Sauce and Garnish

Combine lemon, Worcestershire sauce and hot sauce in a heavy saucepot. Reduce over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wire whisk until mixture becomes thick and syrupy. Whisk in heavy whipping cream. Reduce heat to low and slowly blend in butter one cube at a time, adding additional butter only after previously added butter has completely incorporated into the sauce. This process is called "mounting the butter." Remove from heat and continue to stir. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Strain through a fine strainer and keep warm. Sauté mushrooms in 2 tablespoons butter until tender and all moisture has cooked off. Excess water from the mushrooms may break your sauce if it isn't cooked off. Stir mushrooms into meuniere sauce. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a saute pan and warm crab claws over low heat.

To Serve

Slice cheesecake and top each piece with warm meuniere sauce and three crab claws.

Photograph From September 11 - Poem by Wislawa Szymborska

They jumped from the burning floors—
one, two, a few more,
higher, lower.

The photograph halted them in life,
and now keeps them
above the earth toward the earth.

Each is still complete,
with a particular face
and blood well hidden.

There's enough time
for hair to come loose,
for keys and coins

to fall from pockets.

They're still within the air's reach,

within the compass of places
that have just now opened.

I can do only two things for them—
describe this flight
and not add a last line.


by Wislawa Szymborska
Translated By: Clare Cavanagh And Stanislaw Baranczak

Happy Birthday, Mary Oliver

My friend Lesa, knowing I love the work of Mary Oliver, shared this essay with me this morning.  https://bookriot.com/?p=136011 ,  written by Laura Sackton and lovingly tells how Mary Oliver changed her life.  

Laura says all the things so perfectly that Ms. Oliver has given so many of us.  Words we wish we had written, but that we deeply felt.

Happy Birthday, Mary Oliver, 

and thank you.

First peony bloom in our garden

Peonies: A Poem by Mary Oliver

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open —
pools of lace,
white and pink —
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities —
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again —
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

from New And Selected Poems by Mary Oliver 

Some Annabelle. Just 'cause

Don Williams R.I.P.

This has broken my heart - how many times can one heart be broken in a day? 

I can thank Don Barley for introducing me to Don Williams' music many, many years ago. 

We saw him in Asheville in 2012 - http://www.meanderingsandmuses.com/search?q=Don+Williams. 

I remember sitting in the audience listening to the soft sweetness of his voice, being moved to tears by the words and just being in his presence.

Don Williams

May 27, 1939 – September 8, 2017

Gregg Allman's final album, "Southern Blood," drops today

My heart broke on May 27th, 2017 when I heard the news about Gregg Allman's death.

Today it breaks again as I listen to the last album he recorded, knowing it would be his last.




"My Only True Friend"
written by Gregg Allman and Scott Sharrard

You and I both know this river will surely flow to an end
Keep me in your heart keep your soul on the mend

I hope you're haunted by the music of my soul
When I'm gone
Please don't fly away and find you a new love
I can't face living this life alone
I can't bear to think this might be the end
But you and I both know the road is my only true friend

Another night alone but I see you in my dreams sometimes
No matter where I go lord knows
You were always on my mind

I hope you're haunted by the music of my soul
When I'm gone
Please don't fly away and find you a new love
I just can't face living this life alone
I can't bear to think this might be the end
But you and I both know the road is my only true friend

Still on and on I run it feels like home is just around the bend
I got so much left to give
But I'm running out of time, my friend

I hope you're haunted by the music of my soul
When I'm gone
Please don't fly away and find you a new love
I just can't face living this life alone
I can't bear to think this might be the end
But you and I both know the road is my only true friend
You and I both know the road is my only true friend


You can read the story behind "Southern Blood" here at "The Bitter Southerner."


This is a re-post of the piece I wrote after seeing him in concert in Charlotte in July, 2016 - - - 

There's not much Donald and I enjoy more than live music.

We have seen a wealth of great musicians and it's always a thrill.

Tuesday we saw Gregg Allman and Peter Frampton in Charlotte at The Amphitheater.  (It  keeps changing names and I have no idea what its name is today - the Metro Credit Union Amphitheater, maybe . . . )


We've both seen Gregg Allman numerous times over the years.  And although he may be walking and moving a little slower than he once did, his voice is as strong and clear and true as it ever was.


Neither of us had seen Peter Frampton before.

What a pixie-like ball of energy he is!  Adorable.

And his band members glow with pride when he steps up to play next to one of them

We had front row seats and I was as giddy as a kid.



We were outside and it was hot.


I can't even tell you how hot, but it was hot.


My hair was soaking wet in no time.


And our clothes were sticking to us by the time we left.


It was supposed to rain, but that never happened.


Because it was supposed to rain, we left good cameras at home and took one of the old ones - so excuse the quality of the pics.


But you know what?


It didn't matter that it was hot.

It wouldn't have mattered if it had rained.

It was a great night.

Watching two legends make music, listening to them sing their music live.

It doesn't get much better.

Apple Pound Cake for Labor Day

A neighbor is hosting a neighborhood Labor Day get-together this afternoon. 

My contribution will be an Apple Pound Cake. This is one of my favorite "go to" recipes, one I've been baking for years. It's from one of my favorite cook-books - an oldie but goodie. 


The cookbook is SOMETHIN'S COOKIN' IN THE MOUNTAINS, A Cookbook Guidebook to Northeast Georgia it is a delight.


It's one Donald and I picked up on one of our trips to the North Georgia mountains while we were still living in Atlanta, and loved taking weekend get-away trips to the mountains.

The editors were Cathy and Jay Bucek who owned a wonderful little spot called "Mark of the Potter." 

It's a delightful cookbook, and so much more. It's a terrific guidebook to the N. Georgia mountains and contains several hand drawn maps along with drawings of landmarks and places of interest, like this one of the upside-down bridge. The Mark of the Potter is still there and still lovely, but sadly, Jay is no longer with us. 





The recipes were submitted by local restaurants, businesses and local folk. Every one I've tried has been a winner.

Here's the Apple Pound Cake recipe from Bruce Mitchell of Nacoochee Mound, a large Indian mound in White County. Although I no longer follow this recipe as written, I'm including it beneath my photos as Bruce wrote it with notations relating to my changes. You, of course, could either follow it to the letter . . . or not.

Apple Pound Cake

Ingredients:
2 cups of sugar
1 1/2 cups of cooking oil
3 eggs
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
3/4 cup coconut (I do not use the coconut)
3 cups tart apples, peeled, cored, and diced (I do not peel the apples)
1 cup pecans, chopped (I usually do not use the pecans)


Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine the sugar and oil. Beat with an electric mixer until well blended. Add the eggs one at a time and beat until fluffy. Combine the flour, baking soda and salt. Add to the sugar mixture and blend well. Beat in the vanilla and coconut. Fold in the apples and nuts. Pour into a greased 9-inch tube pan (I usually use a Bundt pan). Bake for 80 minutes, or until the cake tests done (may not take 80 minutes). Turn onto a wire rack to cool. (this recipe does not call for leaving the cake in the pan to cool before turning it out, but I do that.  For about 15 minutes.)


And - - 


ta da!


Here's a picture of the finished product.




Note:  If it doesn't come out of your pan nicely, tear it apart and throw the pieces into a pretty trifle bowl.  Call it Apple Crumb Cake Trifle. Serve with ice cream or whipped cream on top.  (yes - it has happened . . . )

First Sunday of the Month

I'm at Jungle Red today, chatting about Paris - ooh la la!

I hope you'll stop by for a visit  -  http://www.jungleredwriters.com/

Annabelle Barley

Annabelle Barley.

What can I say about Annabelle Barley.


Well.


I can say this . . . 


She is THE most mischievous dog I have ever known, let alone, have living with me.


Truth.


And then she can roll those eyes up and look so innocent that, yes, all is forgiven.


I am a total pushover.


Donald's no better.


I'm going to miss this rug in the living room that we're going to have to throw away.


It was bad enough that three of four corners were chewed off, but the large hole she very quietly managed to chew out yesterday makes it official. 


But not right away. 


Not until we know she's beyond the "lemme chew a hole in this rug" stage.

So, living with it for now and trying not to look at it.


Bitter Apple?   HA!  


Bitter Yuck?  HA!


She's not going to let that stuff hold her back.


It may keep some dogs from chewing things up, but not Annabelle.


When the girl wants to chew a hole in the living room rug, she's going to chew a hole in the living room rug.

But, then  . . .



"Mama. I told you. I do not know who ate that hole in the area rug in the living room. Why do I get blamed for EVERYTHING?"

And then there are "sticks" (or, as I would refer to this one, limbs) . . . 


This is what I have to listen to,

"Mama. It's MY stick. I captured it. Why CAN'T I bring it inside?!"

  

I have never had a dog quite like Annabelle.

And, yes, she owns us.  Heart and soul.

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939 by W.H. Auden

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.
Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.
Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.
The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
'I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,'
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.