To Francis Jourdain
Scotland is veiled with its classic mists,
Our beaches and our lakes are abandoned;
November, supreme judge of the tubercular
Has exiled me on the banks of the Mediterranean…
I will have a wheelchair ‘full of soft scents’
That a well-groomed valet will slowly push
A sweet sun will varnish my last hours,
This winter, on the Promenade des Anglais…
Meanwhile Jane, who is now the companion
Of a healthy and fierce sheep farmer
Adorns with her grace an Australian prairie
Of more than forty thousand acres, they tell me,
And when the pale and cold blood of my twilight
Will have tarnished my Mediterranean beat,
Down there, in New South Wales,
The dawn of a new summer day will arise… How sweet!
(Henry Jean-Marie Levet)
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Based on Topics: Friendship Poems, Winter Poems, Health PoemsBased on Keywords: valet, promenade, wheelchair, well-groomed, anglais, jourdain, tubercular