Watching the ballerina
tying her ballet shoes
preparing for Swan Lake
you remembered
that time in London
when Judy was away
for the week in Italy
and you were held
by the black dog
its teeth holding
onto your soul
going to the coffee bar
in Leicester Square
sitting there
gazing out the window
watching the people
feeling the dark mood
deepen
waiting for time
for the ballet to begin
at Covent Garden
then you are there
sitting in your seat
surrounded by others
well dressed
high talk
posh tones
and you thought
you saw Judy
in the faces
that were there
even one
of the ballerinas
seemed to be her
the same hair
the figure similar
and when the lights lowered
and darkness held you
you thought of her
beside you
her perfume
her soft voice
but some other dame
sat there some brunette
some thin bitch
dressed in blue
and yellow
then the music began
the Tchaikovsky
the black dog biting
and Judy in Italy
and you stuck there
at the ballet
some other time
some other year
and you watched
as the ballerina
having tied on
her shoes
stood and prepared
and stared
as you sat
thinking back
mixing it
with that depression dog
of black.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem