The Chair-Caner
Whatever it cost to make the old peasant give in
who had refused to yield his ancestors' land,
cost to have the swamp sanded over, and the bridge built
and the reception for state dignitaries, he knows nothing of it
the Sunday painter devoted to flowers
to cats' eyes, to young girls' blossoming
on an imaginary dune, just as such things are not noticed
by the gods of this palace who smoke and talk of art
with the gestures of Greek statues. He only
knows that for painting, a sparrow in the sky
suffices, or a sun-ray on the straw of his chair
if in the depth of silence for an instant that shadow
loosens the grip that makes him drop his eyes.
(Text of the poem in the original French)
Guy Goffette
..because translating poems like this, which i really like, would be really hard. don't you think?
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