Friday, October 14, 2005


I could be grateful for the lovely gifts,
But then, I’m an ingrate, as you can see. The waste!
Why should I owe thanks to the spendthrift’s
Frivolous lavishing of presents and of past?

You gave me what you did not mean to give,
It looks as if I got too much of a good thing...
This verse can freely be described as fugitive,
Fleeing from justice, full of running ink.

And when it’s running, i.e. on the run,
I am supposed to think of my eternal debt.
Endowed with three tongues, I was undone.
I’ll readily return one foreign alphabet

And those two which you have never owned
I’ll keep just for a while, if only as a loan.

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