(Translated from the French by Beverley Bie Brahic)
He dismounts, he offers the farewell cup.
He asks where she is going
And why she must. I read this poem by someone else,
I rewrite it, transform it. My friend,
Happiness didn’t much smile at me on this earth.
Where am I going? In these mountains
I seek silence, peace of heart. This is my country,
I will not stray far from here now.
My heart? Does it go in peace towards its hour?
See, this earth we love is in flower,
It is spring: the earth is once more as if new,
The peaks of everywhere turn blue again.
Shall I say goodbye? No, may the water
Quicken always, grasses come into bloom.
Published with the kind permission of Seagull Books. ‘He Dismounts’: The Present Hour (Beverley Bie Brahic trans.) © Seagull Books, 2013; Original from L’heure présente by Yves Bonnefoy © Mercure de France, 2011; English Translation © Beverley Bie Brahic, 2011
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