He took classes on
contemporary philosophy.
In those years
he used to detest poets.
Maybe that was why we were all
under the spell of his charm.
A few weeks ago I saw him at the railway station.
He was no more a philosopher,
perhaps he couldn’t bear being one;
life had made him rely more on poetry.
I don’t know whether they-
with their powerful youth-
worship him now as we did then.
