We present this work in honor of the poet’s 100th birthday.

 

I try to hear in the voice of the wind
the lost echo of my childhood.
And in the light-hearted laughter of little children
I glimpse my former cheerfulness.

I seek in the deserted and silent streets,
the joyful song of dance music
and my forays of times past.
Within that paved avenue,

where luxury cars roll by,
I search for my ugly and poor little street.
I try to see in the dolls today,
so beautiful, with silky braids,

the small rag doll I rocked in my arms.
I try to find in the face of first communicants
traces of my innocence
and of that first emotion that remained in time.

Desperate, I try to discover,
in the face of innocent children
my lost purity.

I search in vain, for I will never find
vestiges of my happy childhood,
that the years have concealed in its abyss.

Translation by Rosaliene Bacchus

 

The motion of ropes in tugs
European hour of a mists’ kaleidoscope
fingers like submarines in the midst of seaweed
it is not so far
from Babylonia to Jerusalem
City quay of Saint-Nazaire
the moor and set sail of ships
slow movement in motionless water
indefinite horizon in Loire
verandah between scaffolds and cranes
unexpected ecstasy of embarkations
Here I am only a foreigner
and I bring the mark of casualty
I am an outsider passer-by
and as I arrived I should leave
Here I am only a passenger
and no matter how devoted I am
I will remain an outsider
No matter how much I want you
I am farouche
and this city is only in my route
ditch wall bridge and sentinel
as I arrived I should return
Nobody will wave to me
from any window
when I leave
platonic quay of myself
metaphysical dimension of a dream
metaphor quay of the passport body
we are the ships in this night
invisible quay of resurrection.

Translation by Marina Nogueira Martensson