more child than my childhood

2:31 PM Posted by James Owens

René Depestre

Childhood’s Wing

My past came down
From the tree where it had slept.
My past takes me by the hand:
Here is the street where I was born
In a black wood coffin.
My past cannot cry out
On its tongue’s clipped wings.
All at once its eyes swim with tears,
Seeing I am more child than my childhood.

(my translation)