About you have all the songs been sung and there is
nothing more about you to be sung

About you has everything been spoken and there could be
nothing else to be said about you

Your linens have remained as mysterious as the night
and your suitors as transparent as the morning

And nevertheless I must still place you in this circle of
unclear being, things, and conditions

Oh, Penelope, Penelope, Penelope, Oh Penelope

Translated by Keith Doubt – © 2006 Keith Doubt


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