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The Ghost of Anna Seghers in Marseille
There was no escape except the port
for us, we were possessed by departure.
We hung around it for years. And then-
farewell Europe. Africa, goodbye.
A man, a woman and a child
stand with ice creams in the dying sun.
The century of transit's over.
Their feet are planted on the shore.
Oh, it can take an age to know
how finite continents can be,
how quick the future and how short the past.
Before we've found out exactly
what happened and what never will,
it's time. I have an old port,
everywhere to go and nowhere to arrive.
Here comes the last boat of the night.
It collects the souls of the dead
and ferries them in circles round the port.
Come to think of it, the souls of the living
did the same. Farewell Europe. Africa, goodbye.
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