Music often carries me away like a sea!
Toward my pale star,
Beneath a ceiling of mist or in a vast sky,
I cast anchor;
My chest a bowsprit and lungs billowing
I scale the back of waves gathering
As night drops its veil;
I feel all the passions of a stricken
Vessel vibrating inside me;
The fair wind, the tempest and its convulsions
Upon the immense gulf rock me.
At other times, becalmed, great mirror
Of my despair!
(Text of the poem in the original French)
New England Review Volume 33, Number 2 / 2012
Volume 33, Number 2 / 2012
Translation copyright © 2012 by John Kinsella
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission