Le Messager - Michel Legrand


Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

______


A light which lives on what the flames devour
a grey landscape surrounding me with scorch
a crucifixion by a single wound
a sky and earth that darken by each hour
a sob of blood whose red ribbon adorns
a lyre without a pulse, and oils the torch
a tide which stuns and strands me on the reef
a scorpion scrambling, stinging in my chest--
this is the wreath of love, this bed of thorns
is where I dream of you stealing my rest,
haunting these sunken ribs cargoed with grief.
I sought the peak of prudence, but I found
the hemlock-brimming valley of your heart,
and my own thirst for bitter truth and art.


- Federico García Lorca

العابرون سريعاً جميلون. لا يتركون ثقلَ ظلّ. ربما غباراً قليلاً، سُرعان ما يختفي، الأكثر جمالاً بيننا، المتخلّي عن حضوره.

- وديع سعادة "عزيزي"

Le Messager - Michel Legrand

Crisantemo Burdeos