samedi 18 août 2012



So Much Silence Around

To Ali Prodrimja

Where do they go, the people I love
Dressed in red robes
At the height of the evening twilight?

Where do they lead, the coppery autumn wind,
The glorious voices of the blue tits?

All that remains here,
Filled with fresh sunlight,
Are the voluptuous clusters of grapes
And my happy childhood
When I sat by the window
Which opened onto infinity.

Tell me, Ali Prodrimja,
Tell me, solitary friend of rushing waters,
Brother of the mountains of Rugova,
Where do they take us, the mares of hurrying time,
The bodies that my hands
Have so long dressed
In light!

Translated from the French of Athanase Vantchev de Thracy by Norton Hodges
 August 2012

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