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“My God, what is a heart?”
George Herbert (1593-1633)
You come in, turn on the
light and smile!
I hear the fragile song of the spring night outside,
full of peonies and periwinkles.
What makes you so inspired?
Why, does your
light flowered dress float on the velvet silence
delicate and erotic as a dream woven of bliss?
Do you imagine captious
perfumes
that would scent your every movement
and make time tremble in the curtains
like the leaves of old poplar trees?
Do you desire to bind
yourself
to the luxurious odour of blackcurrants,
to the timid whispering of cherry trees?
O my Tender Friend, how I
love this waves
of joy that surround your body,
like the Azurean breeze outside
that rushes through the pines!
Come, teach me
the art of complicity with the light of life,
the loving grammar of warm grasses,
and why the stars strike the heart with lightning.
I’m so tired!
Though my soul would so love to speak
the virgin language of the meadows
and know the hidden meaning
of the wooden tablets of Apronenia Avitia!
Explain to me by what tacit
art
Love ceaselessly moves its borders
While I, abandoned to soft idleness,
Listen to the blackbirds’ fluted variations!
Tell me, dear soul,
What is a heart?
Translated from the French
by Norton Hodges
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