She taught them all a song. Learned from a para on French leave from the fighting in Algeria: Demain le noir matin,
Je fermerai la porte
Au nez des années mortes;
J'irai par les chemins.
Je mendierai ma vie
Sur la terre et sur l'onde,
Du vieux au nouveau monde . . . He had been short and built like the island of Malta itself: rock, an inscrutable heart. She'd had only one night with him. Then he was off to the Piraeus.
Tomorrow, the black morning, I close the door in the face of the dead years. I will go on the road, bum my way over land and sea, from the old to the new world. . . .
Je fermerai la porte
Au nez des années mortes;
J'irai par les chemins.
Je mendierai ma vie
Sur la terre et sur l'onde,
Du vieux au nouveau monde . . . He had been short and built like the island of Malta itself: rock, an inscrutable heart. She'd had only one night with him. Then he was off to the Piraeus.
Tomorrow, the black morning, I close the door in the face of the dead years. I will go on the road, bum my way over land and sea, from the old to the new world. . . .
( Thomas Pynchon )
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