Here, minus accents, is JOHN FULLER'S
Mosaique macaronique
Interlocking circles seek
A teasing labyrinthine plan
Au travers le Basilique,
Un pave cailloutis romane.
Galets lisses de St. Pierre,
Blancs et noirs, ils s'entremelent
And we ourselves are walking there,
Treading the shapes of Heaven and Hell.
Dim penitential voices bless
The soaring vaults with F in alt,
Mais sous les pieds de nos faiblesses
Sont cailloux polis de basalte.
Austere Mose et St Pierre
Se rencontrent en mosaique,
Stone on stone established where
The law itself is a mystique.
A grown cathedral can be seen
As something larger than a cairn.
Ses carres rouges comme nougatine
Coupes des volcans de l@Auvergne.
Parfois dans le Basilique
Le basilic comme hypnotiste:
Mountains are where the guilty seek
Interrogation of the Beast.
The walls delight in the grotesque;
God has a righteous chase in view.
Demembrements animent les fresques;
La voute devoile un Absolu.
Le Samedi chez le Basilique
Parfum de basilic, tomates.
Stalls along the pavement reek
Of all that haunts the human heart.
Some neat word-play, I think!
Margaret
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