I rejoice in Joyce
while you watch
Lancaster flying fortresses
dropping bombs over Dresden,
10 tone bombs on Dresden
in the other room,
in imaginary other room,
(baroque’s not my cup of tea)
and, yet, dropping bombs,
10 tone bombs
on our sins and innocence,
on our purified freedom
forged out of passion and pain
for you to watch
Lancaster flying fortresses
for me,
to rejoice in Joyce,
trying to understand
the multitude of meanings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem