Her father is dying.
In vain the Mother of Saint
Burns the lime skin around him.
He is too old.
Yansan
Has been with him for too long.
One despairing night
Will follow the other,
And soon you can come
And fuck her,
And noone will defend.
Here she lies in white,
In her glamorous sheets,
With hibiscus on her nipples –
Here is Cuba.
You, for whom I was ready
To shoot all the Garda,
To trip through the wires –
Baila!
Come here, my Dublin boy!
You don’t have to pay her too much,
Just be as you were with me –
Her poverty is her problem,
Her beauty is your caprice.
Listening to the rum voices,
Out of the weed fog,
In a Carribean eyes
You’ll see my green eyes
On a fresco, on white wall of Havana,
Watching you exploring Cuba.
Turn into a bull and steal her,
Take her across the ocean,
If only you’re strong enough,
Because if she weeps,
You won’t kiss her tears away –
Roy Neil has drowned long ago!
You’ll throw her from your back
And so she will die
In the waves of globalization.