Picture: The dancer (Ragtime) by Alber Bloch
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Dancing madman on the street,
As free as the wind on his bare chest.
Dancing madman on the street,
Living in the moment,
Happier than the shop-owners
Peering out of the window at the ordinary miracle;
Happier than the police,
Who came to extinguish his smile:
Laughter of the eternal child.
Dancing madman on the street,
His house’s a backpack,
His home, the whole world.
He has no riches or gold
But he’s richer than most,
He’s richer than we’re told.
Dancing madman on the street,
You bestow me a tune
From the beginning of the century,
From the beginning of time,
Or is it from the bottom end?
What? But how?
I don’t mind, for both of them
Can only be conceived now.
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Herons