Poem
Claude Esteban
ONE GAVE ONESELF TIME
One gave oneself time, onelost oneself, one followed
the sun, one fell asleep so often
on a bed of straw,
and now, how fresh is
the memory of wind
one might say that the rain hissed
a long silence
and it was as if in the evening
gods were born
but so small
that the birds pecked them like grain.
© Translation: 2000, John Montague
ON S’EST DONNE LE TEMPS
ON S’EST DONNE LE TEMPS
On s’est donné le temps, on s’estperdus, on a poursuivi
le soleil, on s’est endormis tant de fois
sur un lit de paille,
maintenant, comme il est frais
le souvenir du vent
on dirait que la pluie fait un long
silence
et c’est comme si dans le soir
des dieux naissaient
mais si petits
que les oiseaux les picorent comme des graines.
© 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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ONE GAVE ONESELF TIME
One gave oneself time, onelost oneself, one followed
the sun, one fell asleep so often
on a bed of straw,
and now, how fresh is
the memory of wind
one might say that the rain hissed
a long silence
and it was as if in the evening
gods were born
but so small
that the birds pecked them like grain.
© 2000, John Montague
From: Sur la dernière lande
From: Sur la dernière lande
ONE GAVE ONESELF TIME
One gave oneself time, onelost oneself, one followed
the sun, one fell asleep so often
on a bed of straw,
and now, how fresh is
the memory of wind
one might say that the rain hissed
a long silence
and it was as if in the evening
gods were born
but so small
that the birds pecked them like grain.
© 2000, John Montague
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