Song

You will be slaves in a castle.
For every kiss there will be a snicker.
For every bottle there will be a pupil.
We are free and can climb mountains,
But for every passport there is an entrance
And for every flake there is a drop.
Grains of former mosaics hunted us
And for every shred there was a sob
And for every stab there was a silence.
For all our freedom we have been chained,
But for every laugh there had been a caress,
But for every love there had been a smile.

- 1929

Paul Bowles, Next to Nothing: Collected Poems 1926 - 1977, Black Sparrow Press, 1981.