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‘Ich weiss nicht
was soll es bedeuten
dass ich so traurig bin’

Heinrich Heine

Within the attic of my mind
in the furthest lit corner
an explanation of tenses
scattered French verbs
and a fragment of Caesar
in Cisalpine Gaul.

On the camphorwood chest
a blue folder signed off
in unmistakable English.

Through the dormer window
past a wind-moved tree
a shoreline in moonlight
where the Lorelei still sings,
but now on sandstone rocks
and to the tune of a steel guitar.

Famous Reporter 28, 2003