Here you are that poem: (SELF CREATION EXERTS OF A MAMMALS’ CARETTA) By Prof. MES Once upon a time I was born as the second son of my family Were silent all grandparents and the daddy But Mom asked: What did you do and that in which ye took your pride avail you? I swore over the very name Albert S.-her idol as a scholar and virtuous musician unto Whom I would show the greatest respect and enter the world he had created As a second Albert! And the patients of the great hospitals should cry out: Pour on us some curative waters along with the cascade like melody output Of yer org or Hebrew xylophone! Or some notes wherewith nature hath provided you alone. They wouldn’t call me with my original name! And I‘d rather answer only to the name Albert or utter no voice Shame… Lo! God hath forbidden both to my original existence and the model I should have chosen for being identified Well! Who took their personality for a sport, and whom the life of other; And could Beguiled? So the day I was born I have forgotten The real Mammals’ Caretta-myself Even as I forgot my “Genuine Birthday” and as My memories used to deny all related tokens: Verily I have brought my family, Which I expounded with love, a big hope, a mercy! On the day when the fulfillment thereof Cometh, those who were before forgetful thereof will say: The double soul of Our son that Lord sent us To bring the “self creation”! Is that he may intercede with his hand us? Or can he be Returned (to a different life on earth), that we may act otherwise than we Used to act? He has lost His primary soul, and that which he devised hath failed in making himself an outcast Glimmering like a star and a duality in one single body in primary school For the first time exerted his unique effort towards the goal! He covereth the first character brought by birth With the second which is in haste to follow it, and hath Been made through the Mom’s desire To see his son as a sun and moon and the star! Subservient by his own Caretta style command His verily is a new creation and commandment. Blessed be Albert S., the thinker, musician and physician of the World! (O tortoise!) Call upon your Mom’s idol humbly and in secret. She loveth not the ignorant. Hey Reptile Work not confusion in the earth after the fair ordering of “Mother” Call on her dream maker In fear And Hope that all is to be in the form of Hollywood-Happy-End! He it is who has been sendeth the fractions of a great personality One quarter each as tidings heralding his merciless mercy, Till, when he bears a cloud of a divided soul by four He should lead it to a dead entity, And then cause one of his identity To descend thereon Thus bring witness forth for the observation The second’s victory Haply His mother and he may taste Remembering his birth has not been taken for a waste As to the good single soul of Albert S.: Its vegetation cometh forth singly by permission of its Lord; while as It is not bad, only the useless In the sacred way of one’s own observing oneself!

It's a sunday morning, I've got e-mais to type, I've a few answers to give on AB, I've got blogs posts to write, I've got a nice new "Selected Poems of Lawrence Durrell" to read, I've got a big bundle of bricks to move from one point in the garden to another, etc., etc., Sorry, don't have the time.