photo: This poem was written while looking at the Atlantic from Aberystwyth, back when I wasn’t taking photos. This photo was taken near Wellington.
The greedy waves kept coming
the waves, what waves!
and the grey seagulls
in the dying light
of a surprising winter
but the waves, what waves!
and the grey seagulls,
and the foaming surf
almost scared
of its own tide
that would delete the words of love
written in the sand of the afternoon
photo: ce poème a été écrit en regardant l’Atlantique depuis Aberystwyth, à une époque où je ne prenais pas de photos. Cette photo a été prise près de Wellington.
Les vagues gourmandes avancaient
les vagues, quelles vagues!
et les goélands gris
dans la lumière agonisante
d’un hiver surprenant
mais les vagues, quelles vagues !
et les goélands gris,
et l’écume déferlante
presque effrayée
de sa propre marée
qui effacerait les mots d’amour
tracés dans le sable de l’après-midi
photo: I would like to sleep behind this curtain of soft green leaves
I will find the intangible
place where intuition
will speak the truth
in words transparent
like lightning or
crystalline bursts of laughter
And how I would wish to lie
in that riverbed
where I will no longer hear
talk of the vileness of the great
of this small world.
photo: j’aimerais dormir derrière ce rideau de feuilles vert tendre.
Je trouverai le lieu
intangible où l’intuition
dira la vérité
en paroles transparentes
comme l’éclair ou
des éclats de rire cristallins
Et comme je voudrais m’étendre
dans le lit de la rivière
où je n’entendrai plus
parler de la bassesse des grands
de notre petit monde.
photo: I am looking forward to living in a world where we let flower pots get old and old, until they develop their unique beauty : Mykonos
we would forget the basic rules,
the very basic rules,
we would get up late,
we would drink coffee
after coffee until lunch
as if we were on holiday,
as if we were elsewhere,
as if, as if.
