The Elysians
NIGEL DENNIS
The town of Elysia is famous for its raspberries, The raspberry-fields run to the horizon on every side: Between each field lies a strip of water-meadow On which sit huge white cows, munching. The Elysians gather the raspberries and export them In a traditional fibre box, to which is attached An unbreakable jar of white Elysian cream. Statesmen and heroes all over the world Order Elysian raspberries and attendant cream; Planes fly carrying them to perspicacious kings; Eaten at breakfast, they show a star is at her zenith.
But the Elysians themselves never touch raspberries and cream; They dote on sardines in olive oil in the summer And on immense beefsteaks throughout the winter.
The Elysian men are proud, healthy, sonorous, With magenta fingertips from picking raspberries: The Elysian women have fine rumps, and skins as sleek As the olive oil that sheathes the sardine.
They also have ivory noses, and in cach cheek They display a flush that might compare to an apple But is really the bloom of an underdone steak.
Oh, how I love to live with the Elysians!
To pick raspberries day after day with the singing men, To milk white cows and churn white cream with the women; And to go home to their stone cottages in the evening And watch the sun go down behind the raspberry-fields.
From 'Exotics: POCIllS of the Mediterranean and the Middle East' to be published by Weidenfeld and Nicolson next week.
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