She’s gone, and we are left behind and mournful!
So let it be injected in words so tearful:
She’s gone, and we are left behind and mournful!
Each hour that strikes is emptier than before,
Now that, great Queen, you’re silent ever more.
The present writer who is me took the liberty to paraphrase the last stanzas of the poem When Bobby Died, (1917), by Karl Kraus, translated by D. G. Wright.
Thanks for reading “The Flying Fish”. I kiss you on the mouth.
Tomasz Goetel
Ibiza, Spain
September 9, AD 2022