Poem
Claude Esteban
OLD LEG
Old leg, you no longer serve, Ijettison you
is it too vast, the world, one could
lone oneself, but
everything is alike in the ends, all rots
no matter where
the old brain as well
needs a crutch, hobbles,
hobble, my pure spirit, the toads
snigger in their marsh.
© Translation: 2000, John Montague
VIEILLE JAMBE
VIEILLE JAMBE
Vieille jambe, tu ne sers plus, jete jette
il est trop grand ce monde, on peut
s’y perdre, mais
tout se ressemble à la fin, tout pourrit
n’importe où
la vieille cervelle aussi
a besoin d’une béquille, boite,
boite, mon pur esprit, les crapauds
rient dans leur marécage.
© 2001, Claude Esteban
From: Sur la dernière lande
Publisher: Gallimard, Paris
From: Sur la dernière lande
Publisher: Gallimard, Paris
Poems
Poems of Claude Esteban
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OLD LEG
Old leg, you no longer serve, Ijettison you
is it too vast, the world, one could
lone oneself, but
everything is alike in the ends, all rots
no matter where
the old brain as well
needs a crutch, hobbles,
hobble, my pure spirit, the toads
snigger in their marsh.
© 2000, John Montague
From: Sur la dernière lande
From: Sur la dernière lande
OLD LEG
Old leg, you no longer serve, Ijettison you
is it too vast, the world, one could
lone oneself, but
everything is alike in the ends, all rots
no matter where
the old brain as well
needs a crutch, hobbles,
hobble, my pure spirit, the toads
snigger in their marsh.
© 2000, John Montague
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