Chanson d’automne
Song of Autumn The long sobs Of the violins Of autumn Stab my heart With a monotone Langour. All suffocated And pale, when The hour strikes, I recall Days of yore And cry. And I go With tragic winds That …
Tag: French
Fins
The Siren is a beast, usually blonde That chooses a corner for herself in a much-frequented sea And spreads herself upon a great rock On the lookout for hardy sailors With intentions that are beyond nautical. The siren yells like …
Desert Island
The children of today When they are between fifteen and twenty Are sad and quiet Afraid of of vicious old men They get bored in cafés And nothing makes an effect on them And when you speak softly to them …
Plume at the Restaurant
Plume was having lunch at a restaurant, when the maître d’hotel approached, frowned at him and said in a low, mysterious voice, “What you have there on your plate is not on the menu.” Plume excused himself at once. –Ah, …
Hiccup
And though I’ve tried swallowing seven gulps of water three or four times every twenty-four hours my childhood comes jolting back in a hiccup instinctively like a criminal to the scene of the crime disaster tell me of disaster tell …
Creole Son of the Francophone World
Ours are the hills of the old marronnage ours are the coves and the cobalt bluffs the sovereign trees blooming in the eye of the cyclone! ours are the dark rum beaches under the moonlight companion stars facing the sea …