I am not Alexander
from that Old Sanskrit poem
conquering nothing
not even her heart
still I linger in that same city
overlooking that same rive
r the 7th heaven on the hill
with its string of rooms
at the end of which there is
only one bed
one woman sleeping in
it,
that shining Jewel still
glowing on the horizon
still a memory of her there
forever even though I
know
she might not be there someday
I am no Alexander
who has conquered all
I dwell in the memory of only one conquest
I would have made
if I could if I could go back
to one city, one
house, one room, one bed
where one woman resides
And one heart I need to conquer
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