(Good luck and courage for what will be!)
Let me go my way now,
Let me sing of the dead
Who nest in the rosy branches
Of my sleep!
The fragrance of guavas,
The scent of ripe melons,
Grains of hemp
And their spirits, finally free,
That float on the small fragile boats
Of the light.
The days when they didn’t see God
Have been erased from the calendar of love.
Let me flow with the honey of the evening
Into the depths
Tell me, now,
Translated from the French of Athanase Vantchev de Thracy by Norton Hodges 10.04.12.