The Song Of Francois Villon Poem by David Alpaugh

I am François
maybe you know me
perhaps when I was short of coin
I pulled you deep into a doorway
and held a knife against your groin

and emptied out your bulging wallet—
and stripped your jewelry, left you stark,
and warned your jaws to stick together
and cursed you gently down the dark.

I am François
maybe you know me
perhaps in love, perhaps in lust
you gave the nod that says “I’m willing”
to do what man and woman must

and as we tumbled into darkness
there was no place, there was no time
no voices crying, “I am François! ”
no he nor she; no me nor I’m.

I am François
maybe you know me:
You were my patron for a while.
I told you jokes and read you my verses
and helped you to improve your style

so you could write a passing sonnet—
seduce young women with my rhyme.
Prince, you are a true inspiration—
to all who ply a life of crime.

I am François
maybe you know me
I’d pass your window as a boy
and stare in awe, bewitched by your beauty
as if you were Hélene of Troy!

The boy is gone—and where’s your beauty?
You’ll soon be rotting in the ground.
Go curse old age for stealing love’s booty!
All flesh must find what you have found.

I am François
maybe you know me
I wrote that line about the snow
of yesteryear… asking where is it?
If you’re like me you still don’t know.

You need to make your will in earnest.
The Sorbonne bell’s about to chime.
The night is chill. The snow is still falling.
There is no time. There is no time.