Este habitar em mim...
E vejo-me fora de mim.
Não sei ser, sem não ser.
He was also
Georges.
So he was
Lloyd Georges,
the Welsh
magician.
Being
Lloyd, he was Georges.
Being
Georges, he was Lloyd.
He was
destinated to be Lloyd Georges.
Lloyd
Georges was dual.
No, he
wasn’t because he was Lloyd and Georges,
or Welsh
and British, even lawyer and politician.
Our man had
always two positions as a politician;
perhaps, as
a lawyer, even more
you know
how the lawyers are…
Good old
Lloyd…and Georges
let me
remember you a minuteness;
oh that
minuteness was laying
obscure at
Babylon sands;
you see, I couldn’t
resist to use
the word
obscure; all poets use it, sooner or later.
Remember
old Lloyd?
Oil, that’s
it! Oil!
Remember
good old Lloyd
your words,
your joy –grab all that oil!
Where was
your dual and proverbial position?
I know you
was Lloyd, you was Georges,
later Lloyd
Georges.
Let me
guess old Lloyd, let me guess
I can see
(and hear) you – There is Babylon
I am a
lawyer; I want the hanging gardens at Downing Street
to study
better this legal monument that is the Code of Hammurabi
the oil is
just a detail, as the sand is just a detail in the desert
and I (him,
Lloyd Georges) am not Nabuchodonosor,
I am not in
prophet Daniel’s famous dream
even a
prophet, a good one, couldn’t predict me.
Good old
Lloyd Georges, Oh my welsh magician
you are
dual and cold on your grave
and Babylon
rests ignored under antique sands
never more
vanquished, never more found.
António Eduardo Lico
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