Joyce in Trieste

 

This is the story of a youth

Who left his country to go south

Willing to launch a brand new life

Together with his Dublin wife

 

In a determinative jest

He took the way to Trieste

To safeguard his vanity

From nation and Christianity

 

Because he wants to write some prose

Which could get in his townsmen nose

And deems that writing from the distance

Would save from danger his existence

 

***

In an apartment of one room

He’s far from being the perfect groom

Family life he abhors

And visits frequently the whores

 

Marriage can transform any man

To a domestic animal

And to escape a life bovine

He finds refuge to bottles of wine

 

And pride won’t let him to repent

His impotence to pay the rent

For men who worked for sacred causes

Life’s never been a bed of roses

 

***

And as inside his troubled mind

He still misses his motherland

His steadily uncommon sense

Calls for some kind of revenge

And targets with his bitter pen

Preferably fellow countrymen

 

***

As if all this was not enough

He’s envying his pretty wife

With bitterness combined with lust

For her affairs in distant past

 

Keeping always an eye on her

He lurks for the adulterer

Which he will suddenly uncover

And the affair will be all over

Meanwhile his rage and desperation

Have fetched delights of inspiration

Still the intensive tribulation

Of that feverish mind

And his life's stresfull situation

Deteriorate his troubled eyes

 

***

 

Throughout his working as a teacher

He manifests his discontent

And benefits of every chance

To proudly talk about his troubles

With funny words and self-sarcasm

 

To supplement his low income

Some private lessons should be done

To pretty girls of high class

To merchants and aristocrats

To businessmen and men of power

He teaches English by the hour

 

However this is not enough

To pay the bills and he cannot

Refrain himself from carelessly spending

His very meager daily earning

 

***

Then he thinks  as a wisely owl

To call in help a brother soul

Whose loyalty from childhood

Was usefull and well understood

 

Without delay the good ally

Comes to support his carefree life

By financing his family

He saves them from calamity

 

***

Meanwhile the author tries hard

To advertise his fine art

And as the way to publication

Won’t be without solicitation

 

Some unexpectable success

Will help him out of distress

Cause he is destined to be found

By someone named Ezra Pound

 

The editors of Egoist

Would put him high on their list

Among them one progressive mother

Admires him more than any other

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