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