Ode to London

There where one wanders along your banks

Among the crowds of boys with mohawks

The music of Vivaldi is always beautiful

At St. Martin-in-the-Fields lit by candles

Next to the Thames your joggers run there

The red headed kid was afraid at the Tower

The museum that had formerly been a factory

A man from Chicago with blue eyes and fine hair

The couples who walk like in a dream

Hand in hand and smiling like your Eve

The city of London celebrates the night

Despite the weather they love being and living there

That tomato woman whose breasts sagged

Bringing a heavy suitcase and yet

She prefers her rural and miniscule town

Where she would never be elbowed by a pretty crowd

The march of history you hug it to you

In your arms, at the feet of the railway

And I leave for Paris almost without effort

I think of you and my light heart beats harder