Eastern bad trip

Sepia colored dead lives 

whose names of partners

have been forgotten 

on the dance card ...

Elegant hussars shall no longer

find repose upon the battlefield 

of love ...

And you,austere princesses ,

leading with dignity 

the solemn funeral  procession

of the deceased empire ...

Walking down along 

the grey Danube banks ,

I meet a little starving street painter

with a Bohemian appearance .

I cast three pence to this unfortunate artist

and I take my leave with a geometry

 werhein his dreams are enshrined ...

And then I immerse it in the murky waters

of the history...

I had not an appointment with Rembrandt.

Perhaps that was a Mondrian's cubist avatar ?

Where has that damn dream-traveling machine

drove me again ?

 My soul wanders through an universe 

of postcards ...

 I got confused for the winter time change...

I wanted to meet Kafka in Prague 

at the ''Café des philosophes '' .

 On the '' Pont charles '' I would have given

some charity to an old jew ,playing 

a whiny  violin to nourish his progeny 

and proffering a donation unto the Golem...

The '' café des philosophes '' no longer exists.

It was replaced by the people's house 

where the little grandad comes to serve the soup !

 I would seek to arrange a date

with my sweet Beata in  Warsaw  .

We shall partake of a warm mulled cinamon wine

at the christmas market ...

 But won't she be in someone else's arms ?

and then a bit dazed ,

somewhat befuddled in my mind 

I will return to Berlin on the midnight express.

Around the central station ,a pretty heroin lady

will say '' I love you ! '' to me !

I would write a regret on the blank page 

of her dance card...

 Please note that a Viennese gentleman

never misses the new year concert 

regardless of the conductor ...