~ by Charles A. Coulombe
I have lived three years
On the rue de Cabanis
And find myself dry.
Walking down cobbled streets,
Blue-and-White signs that
Tell me where I am,
But not where I am.
The people, yes, the people,
Kindly old ones, lively young,
I laugh with them, but not
With them.
Why? I have love and what I want.
A ride on the metro
Will take me to the Louvre,
Or the Guard at Elysee.
I left my native land to find – what?
It was not there,
Nor in Paris, City of light.
But then –
Watching the Cadre Noir at paces
In Saumur.
Hearing the carillon of Notre Dame.
What hope?
I kneel here at the altar
Of St. Nicolas-du-Chardonnet.
I smell incense – miserere mei,
Great God, give a sign!