Reply to Auden, 8 February 2011

A victim of her circumstance I guess she lies there prone
Not seeking universal love but to be loved alone
As Diaghilev demanded, while Nijinsky went insane
I fully understand it without having her explain

The Bolshoi dancers had their chance now I prefer the streets
Behind the curtain there’s a man who noone ever meets
Business suits on prostitutes it’s warfare based on class
That photo of your daughter’s cute now won’t you let me pass?

History here created such a Bacchanalian waste
Attempts at Russian ballet, like my keys, they’ve been misplaced.
And now she casts a certain glance so I’ll be leaving soon
Almost anything is better than sitting in this room;

I just came here to disappear, don’t you be mad at me
A tragic bit of touching, a real touching tragedy

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