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Doar
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In the old park, deserted in the frost,
A while ago two shapes came drifting past.
Their eyes have died, their lips become so weak
That you can hardly hear a word they speak.
In the old park, deserted in the frost,
A ghost was reminiscing to a ghost.
-Can you recall our ecstasy of long ago?
-Why stir the memory? Why do you want to know?
-Does your heart beat at just my name, as ever?
Do9 you still see my spirit in your dreams? -No. Never.
-O lovely days of speechless happiness
When our mouths met!-Speechless? Perhaps it was.
-How blue the sky was and what hopes we had!
-Hope ran away to the black sky, defeated.
So they walk on in the self-seeding grass
With only night to hear them as they pass.
Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896)
Trans. Alistair Elliot
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050809
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