To Gabriel Fabre
One looks at the brilliant fires of Port Said,
As the Jews looked at the Promised Land;
Because one cannot go there; it is forbidden
– It seems – by the Convention of Venice
To those in the yellow quarantine pavilion.
We will never calm our anxious desires on this shore
To provide ourselves with the obscene photos
And the excellent tobacco of Latakia…
Poet, one would have loved, during the short call at port
To spend an hour or two treading the soil of the Pharoahs,
Instead of listening to Miss Florence Marshall
Sing ‘The Belle of New York’ – in the salon.
(Henry Jean-Marie Levet)
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