It is time for vespers
And our young Polish priest
Sits in a brown armchair
Reading, smoking a cigar,

Listening to countless Argentine tangos.

Later, a woman in red
Brings a basket of food.
They sit on the terrace
Eating, not communing,

Listening to haunting Argentine tangos.

An atheist black cat
Carrying a dead mouse
Walks along a white wall
To the next roof. We smile,

Listening to bloody Argentine tangos.

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