[Various fragments of this text by STEFAN THEMERSON, writer and founder-editor of Gaberbocchus Press, were read by the author at: The National Poetry Centre, London, June 1976; GLC Dial-a-writer, London, April 1978; France Culture, Poésie Ininterrompue, Paris, November 1978; De Populier, Amsterdam, December 1979; and Radio Gdansk, May 1981.]

I.

You asked me to read to you. This invitation, so nice and flattering, made me go to a park and sit on a bench and reflect, made me walk through the streets and reflect, made me lie on my couch and reflect, and the reflection, both melancholy and not sad, was like the hand of a watch, moving round and round and round, always forward, and always coming back to its point of departure. Hence melancholy; because questioning the essence of progress.

I wanted to grow a crystal, and bring it to you as a gift. I wanted to wrap it nicely in words, and give it to you tonight. Alas . . . and it is not that I'm not capable of putting forms in symmetries of rhymes and rhythms . . . but crystals grow from undisturbed tranquillity, and this I couldn't find in myself.

Thus, I got up from my bench, I stopped in the middle of the pavement, I jumped out of my dream : what I shall bring you is a flaming torch, a loudhailer, an Allons, Citoyens! Fortunately . . . and it is not that I'm ...