A While Away From Woluwe

I am a while away from Woluwe,
My ship wrecked in the sand pits,
Adrift, not yet sunk, my thanks to Salomé.

While away from Woluwe,
I lost my voice.
Let me recover in the Forêt de Soignes,
Where we built fighter planes as boys.

We gave no thought to parachutes.
Now, I have no means to sail.
So I go with the jetsam,
Mutilated and frail.

I am a while away from Woluwe,
As far as I can go,
For any step further
May be the killing blow.

It is getting harder to stay awake;
I hunger. I thirst.
A single whiff of Place Dumon
Would save me from the worst.

Be it the grease of frites or a drop of beef stew,
I’ll make it through the day.
But if I am to see out this life,
Take me to the ladies’ café.

Nothing is as sweet as their sugar cubes.
Even Leopold would bend the knee.
Oh! Let me have a taste to rid
What they’ve been feeding me.

Alas, I am far from Woluwe,
And distance is kind to wrath.
No such shower awaits my gentleness;
Where be the early bath?

And so, while away from Woluwe,
I have been wallowing away,
Afraid that when I do return,
It won’t recognise my face.

This spree that I leave in my wake,
Invites the sharks to feast;
That boy who scampered through the undergrowth
Today marauds as a beast.

I have stopped fearing the dark;
I miss those morning roads;
Le Marien no longer weeps
So can I please just stay afloat?

I am a while away from Woluwe,
Even further from a life
I cannot return
In his death, I stand alive.