Poem
Claude Esteban
WE ARE SMALL
We are small, so small you would say, that deathwill forget about us
how well you spoke on the heath, I finished
by believing you, the fool
I imagined death like a mother
who welcomes us
and who wants us to go to sleep at last,
but you were only the fool
you muddled the signs mervellously,
as for myself
I was on the edge of the void, I waited.
© Translation: 2000, John Montague
On est petits
On est petits
On est petits, disais-tu, si petits que la mortva nous oublier
comme tu parlais bien sur la lande, je finissais
par te croire, le fou
j’imaginais la mort comme une mère
qui nous accueille
et qui veut qu’on s’endorme enfin, mais
tu n’étais que le fou
tu confondais merveilleusement
les signes, moi
j’étais sur le bord du vide,
j’attendais.
© 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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WE ARE SMALL
We are small, so small you would say, that deathwill forget about us
how well you spoke on the heath, I finished
by believing you, the fool
I imagined death like a mother
who welcomes us
and who wants us to go to sleep at last,
but you were only the fool
you muddled the signs mervellously,
as for myself
I was on the edge of the void, I waited.
© 2000, John Montague
From: Sur la dernière lande
From: Sur la dernière lande
WE ARE SMALL
We are small, so small you would say, that deathwill forget about us
how well you spoke on the heath, I finished
by believing you, the fool
I imagined death like a mother
who welcomes us
and who wants us to go to sleep at last,
but you were only the fool
you muddled the signs mervellously,
as for myself
I was on the edge of the void, I waited.
© 2000, John Montague
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