Cataluniad

The Cataluniad

A Souvenir

There lies in my soul most grievous a wound

Which ’pon this day I’ve undertaken to sooth

Breathe O ye Gods Holy Fire to my pen

So mem’ry may dance with life once again!

I entered one evening ’pon the glorious stage

Where unfolded the play that grieves e’en today

No fault was there in that hospitable bay

In causing the wound I sing of this day

The night I arrived I was weary with grief

Sick of my travels and seeking relief

And the streets of that town were both friendly and warm

They embraced me just as a mother her son

There ’pon the southerly coast of warm Spain

Where Pyrenees mount meets the sea Med Terrain

Next morning ’pon rising from Holy a sleep

That unraveled the knots of my previous grief

I met a man like Hamlet, a youthful fellow

Whose words and deeds were of an age more mellow

That day he accompanied me ’bout the town

He showed me the fountain where the water runs down

Many a peace-filled day then ensued

Of lentils and onions and garlic and soup

He rightly requested I pay my own fair

For the train to the art house of Dali near there

Soup dribbled from his lips as he laughed at our age

We were both relieved to find them the same

Though bearded we were not yet twenty-one

He worked in a factory, though he looked a king’s son

‘twas a glorious city with a splendid colonnade

Thoroughfares and parks where the people parade

No single cloud darkened the sky

At no time heard I the raven’s coarse cry

’pon the morning we found the meeting hall troubled

By what seemed to be a furious quarrel

And there surrounded by cock-crowing men

Sat a lovely girl who’d caused all the din

“No wonder,” I thought “that these men would so boast

Attempting each one to catch her the most”

The girl seated there pronounced human speech

Though she seemed like a nymph from the glade or the sea

At that time I too wished to know

The colours and sounds of her delightful soul

Yet wisdom stayed at that hour by me

Though at the sight of her hair like honey

So I was counseled ’gainst any action

That would reduce my face to a crowd’s mere fraction

Indeed Athene spoke not in vain

I heeded her words and averted my gaze

Then said I to a companion of mine

A young man of flowing locks from the East of the Rhine

“That beautiful nymph attracts such a following

Adding our voices to theirs would be folly”

And so we went down to the gull-filled bay

Where box’d wine and laughter filled all the day.

Tis through bliss unconfined the gods addle our wits

When leisure reclines where judgment should sit

Tis the son unwary of his inheritance

Who allows eye to wink at the hungry glance

Soon is his wealth for flattery sold

From filling friends’ mouths with gifts of gold

So slept discretion in those days of bliss

Only to waken when judgment was missed

’twas one day I spoke ’midst a various folk

When I heard her laugh at the things that I spoke

Immediately flew my resolution away

How could I help but to look in her way?

Since that bright day I’ve often digressed

Pond’ring the virtue of our congress

It seemed my attempt to still my heart’s brewing

Proved now to be its object’s undoing

For shelter provided by shallow a bay

Wrought in prudence from reason’s high place

Offered her rest from too eager a passion

A haven preserving for her sweet compassion

If I’d but thought of all of this then

’twould have spared the dance of this melancholy pen!

No voice fairer than hers has been heard

Like chimes of honey and lilting of birds

The movement of her quick cunning glance

So much like Athene’s ocular dance

Held my own with its warming glows

Through delicate spectacles perched ’pon her nose

As night descended with dusky a gloom

The city flared with a thousand bright looms

Caught ’pon fountain’s glistening spray

Flared innumerable lights like heaven’s display

My mem’ry shines dim ’pon her youthful charm

But I know that that night she gave me her arm

And we went that night to a gathering room

Which brought to my mind the African gloom

Which dim and dusky grew thick ’bout our heads

Through which way low voices would thread

The dark red wine lent her lips of its hue

To which with low laugh my attention she drew

For she asked me whether they’d lost much redness

But none seen them redder, or so I would guess

And she spoke of her papa away back home

She sat ’pon his lap when she felt alone

The bard had coloured his ode with the glow

Of an African home where the rich rivers flow

With a lute-like instrument with well-tuned strings

He created from sound a fountain of dreams

As we strolled home through a cool blue night

Now lit by slowly dwindling light

Came the moment we all must feel

When Time now remembered makes us quite still

She marked in my face Aphrodite’s caress

Which dances years later with Autumn’s cool airs

Lifting the leaves from occasional drifts

Giving motion to trees letting gold dapples drip

She saw in my eyes the eddying mist

Which spoke of my wish to give her a kiss

And she saw ’twas checked by unspecified fear

And came forth but as words to tickle the ear

And so ’twas with words and delightful speech

I settled for shadows of the thing I would reach

How to answer so acute observation?

’twas not by a kiss, but by foolish distraction

She waited but briefly then let it pass by

Free of the moment, not even a sigh

And before we retired from now quiet street

She sat ’pon the ground and pulled her head through her feet

She came from the land of the Menapii

Where knowledge of tongues that are spoken stands high

For those low plains lie ’midst various lands

And takes from each of their various charms

Her speech lilted with all their colourful glee

And her name was the mercy of the bumblebee

At that time came to the hostel of youths

One who believed in the nebulous truths

Of spirits and gods, he believed they were there

When you call them by name they appear from thin air

He distilled a potion of lavender strength

Which he kept in green bottles of moderate length

Of water and grapes that were dried in the sun

Imbued with water’s spirit that runs

Over myriad rocks tumbling wild and free

But with ever a purpose it runs to the sea

In splashing it casts up small drops in rich spray

Silver white in the moon, golden yellow by day

Such was the spirit of Poetry’s child

Who’d left home’s comfort for streets free and wild

Walking ’pon planks and that night in the zoo

Where wolves snapped at his heels, and we searched for the truth

He came from an Empire over the sea

But his sojourn in Europa had made him free

And of an evening in the comfort of home

In the common room where all the travellers go

I spoke with the Bee over any slight thing

Kitchen Dutch that they speak at the place whence I came

She sat ’pon my lap and though I quipped she was heavy

She was but a lass, now no longer merry

All pleasure to be so must swiftly pass by

But I thought I could hold it all the days of my life

She seemed to notice, but instead of dismay

Increased her humour with lively a play

Once in answer to my offer of help

To move her things to the place she now dwelt

(For she’d left the hostel just that day

Finding a place where she now could stay)

She replied she’d found someone able and strong

Who’d won her regard: he helped her along

And laughing ’pon seeing my growing confusion

Introduced me so as to dispel my illusion

He whom I feared stood right there by me

A frame upon wheels, or rather a trolley

One night as we strolled through the orderly streets

Glowing with light and settled in peace

I asked with restraint could I ask her a question?

She was frankly quite startled by this introduction

She rather I didn’t but still I persisted

So she said ask away if so I insisted

At which utterance I opened my speech

Wishing for tact to prevent any breach

“I’ve often remarked thine conversation quite able

With one woman who likes to sit at thine table

And the Isle of Lesbos of which thou hast spoke

In terms quite glowing you admired that folk

In all truth and candour, and to be quite plain

I would fain know if thou art a Lesbian”

And now she laughed with merry a mirth

Enjoying the joke for all it was worth

But suddenly came more pensive a tone

She was glad that the question was not the one

She secretly feared that I would pronounce

Yet why would I know, or give so much as an ounce

To know whether or no she was closed to all men

Had I an interest I concealed just then?

And so befuddled I went up the stairs

And entered the rooms where she now lay her cares

She shared them with a woman from the Island Green

Where beer flows like water and the people are keen

’twas ’neath her gaze we made our way to the room

Where she who now led me lay her head in the gloom

The room was spare and well lit

’pon the soft bed she made me to sit

And laying across she placed her foot in my hand

And laughing with ease and in a way unplanned

She spoke with the charm of flighted word

But I lay shocked, and though I heard

Could barely make a coherent reply

My wits were befuddled and my throat was dry

And quickly perceiving I was ill at ease

She went to the kitchen for a pot of tea

’twas first piping hot, then rich and warm

But it brought none of the comfort I’d known

So seeing the right cure for my curious sore

She showed the freedom which lay past her door

When eagle launches from precarious lair

Perched ’pon sheer cliff in the dizzying air

It spreads its broad wings and begins to fall

Encompassing the wind beneath living quill

He soon soars away with buffeted flight

He’s filled with the joy of Heaven’s delight

Thus was I stooped in her breath’s sweet wine

She said she would meet me in a day’s time

The following dusk merged with a veil of grey

I went to the market with the tune of this lay

Comforting with song a heart wounded and sore

’midst spoons and watches and other things more

And when night approached in that place far from home

Travelers gathered from where they’d roamed

Bottles were broached, there was perfumed smoke

Of peoples and places all softly spoke

But I sat apart from the general mirth

In a cage of waiting, distraught in its girth

For as time passed I grew slowly aware

The one I expected would not appear there

So in state benighted and with wretched display

I emptied my pockets and put my hands on my face

Then one spoke, he was inspired by Zeus

’twas an older man who now spoke the truth

He looked at me keenly and said with sharp air

“Why sit ye yonder and in growing despair?

This night’s not for sorrow though we judge from your face

Thou art distressed; art thou disgraced?”

Summoning my will with stumbling speech

I related the tale that night near the beach

And concluding my song with a heart-rending sigh

I sat in silence avoiding his eye

But he swiftly broke in with the following words

I have not forgotten, of their truth I’m assured

“What!” quoth he in true surprise

“Can it be true that your time you despise?

By your own speech which you related just now

New lands do beckon while you mope in this town

I’ve never before - and I say this most truly -

Delayed my steps for faint promises, and surely

Such is this, for by your own confession

You sit here now in self-imposed detention

I know of her, e’en the Merciful Bee

Her spirit is free and unchained to thee

So tomorrow ’pon rising with rosy Dawn

Proceed on your travels with the good heart you’ve known”

But maudlin and sorry I paid him no mind

But sought in cups the forgetting I’d find

I knew but shut door ’pon the following day

When I went to her building so I could say

My final farewell, though ’twas my hope

To attain some promise or some envelope

I knew neither that day, nor any thereafter

I boarded the train for the land of Granada

And from the river-fed fountains of the happy moor

To the caves of the gypsies and the resounding guitar

Rose an echo rich with the murmuring sound

Of the crafts and crooked streets of that fortunate town.