Many years later

He phoned her

And told her

That it was as before

That he still loved her

He could never stop loving her

That he would love her until death



That is quite beautiful Clive

Whose pen does it belong to

Marguerite Duras

It is from L’Amant



Those years had always existed

On decaying rice paper

It was only a matter of time

Before the ants finally took over



Sometimes when I see

A beautiful white yacht

Deep within the sea

I think of the author

And her dreamlike pen