The peaks and lakes will still be there
Though you and I go far from here
Other steps will trace the snow
Other hair the wind will blow
And we shall trudge back to our lives
Work and watch TV till demise
But thank our fortunes that amidst it all
We had our unchangeable Paradise.
And now it’s back to daily routine
The evenings bearable, the mornings mean
The heat, the dust, the despair
The loo blows in the April air
Life-a combination of gifts:
Being ignored or deprived, the rifts
Between friends, the death of a dream
Though others take its place.
When we land, the anonymity
Jars with memories of my ten-year self
The arms thrown around, the joyful tears shed
The long drive, the hedgerows, the hatchback sped
Across railway crossings, the local fair
Into lives being lived and so dear
But those voices and those words
Are gone now, we have
Our own world still to make.
Imagining the evenings after dusk
The cold breeze, doors closed fast
Oh look, they are gathered in Stephenplatz
The UBahn (nightlong), S-Bahn are amazingly fast
It was here that Mozart lived
And Beethoven and Brahms and Mahler too
But I wanted to be cool,
To look for the Second Viennese School.
Now I miss the wurst and how!
The music, the images you carry within
But the food: schnitzel, torte, I find you not
When you feed, it is a kind of bliss
Not caring if you’re loved or famous or rich
Shovelling in the goodness
We love, in order to live
Like a Panda munching leaves
Chewing takes the mind off things!
Crying child on the flight,
Crying, bewildered, day or night?
The blue collars, the tough men
Are heading home from the Gulf
The mothers, all bags and babies
The money’s good, the food
Like you get at home, they say
But your own, can such a place be?
It is better to run
And run and run
Than to stay with a runny nose?
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