Three pamphlets in which he spared none
do not diminish my esteem.
Rats in a stable are not horses.
(How well he knew their beady eyes,
steaming sewers and twisted knives!)
The pamphlets are medals on his chest,
pearls of truth upon his canon,
while the gnawed brown beams of Europe
crumble in the metro slums
and France relents once more, and burns.