Frederick And Geraldine (Part 10) Poem by Marieta Maglas

(Geraldine was walking on the deck while waiting nervously for Fredrick. Suddenly, he appeared while speaking quickly and gesturing.)



''I've waited for you all day long to come up with some fuel.''
''I went to buy charcoal, water, and outdoor lamp oil.
At a crossroad, I've seen a stage driver who has been so cruel
To whip his horses to run faster; the oil spilled on the soil.



He drove a stagecoach; my horse was frightened by the sound
And my trolley overturned. I had to come back to buy
Again three barrels of oil.'' ''That oil spilled on the ground, ''
Said Geraldine, ''the money has gone, and this is not a lie!



I don't ask you to tell me where you've really spent the money.
It makes no sense to ask you for the truth. Is she beautiful?
Did you have a good time? To wash laundry in public, honey,
You may bring her here. This way, you can be dutiful.''



''I love you, '' screamed Frederick, '' so, you think you're funny.''
''Well, I may be funny although I'm never stupid.''
He held her, ''I sold some jewels. Take the money.
I could lie to you, but you're the one. I'm down with Cupid.''




''Do you remember that man having a ring with a skull? ''
''You've met him in Constantinople, '' ''I've met him here, too.
He was in that stagecoach liking this way his horses to cull.
He laughed saying, ''I'm a captain in search for my crew.'' ''



''Frederick, I want to return home at Khadjibey.
Do you remember when we've met in the port and you
Gave me an emerald cut on a gold ring shining at the ray? ''
''I've asked you to marry me, '' ''I love you; you know it's true.''



''Then why do you want to turn back home? '' ''You know I'm scared.''
'' This is our chance. If we turn back in that unknown trading port
For slave markets, I will not survive; I'm not prepared
To ask the sanjak bey some protection and a lot of support.



I am an Italian and I've seen so many things.
I saw the terrible fate of those becoming galley-slaves,
The women enslaved being sexually abused, in sufferings,
But someone living in Khadjibey is a plow and a scythe. ''



'' Is this artwork painted by Paolo de Matteis or not? ''
Asked Francesca while coming to them. ''What are you doing here? ''
''We really like to admire that splendid island a lot.''
''Shall we offer them a string instruments' concert, Chiara dear? ''

(To be continued…)

Poem by Marieta Maglas