vagabond gods
René Depestre
The Cord
In Paris once I saw
A huge dormitory with just one bed:
A cord stretched across the room
A fat vein in the body
Of modern loneliness
Each night wandering men
Would hang their bad dreams there
And would wake in the morning
When a tender hand untied the cord.
A cord with a capital C
Like the one across my life
Where at evening I hang
The vagabond gods of my childhood.
(my translation)
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1 comments:
hi james :-)
I don't know the original, but it is very beautiful. I especially like the ending. sometimes a great ending is enough to make the whole poem a masterpiece. I don't feel the same about beginnings, though. but it is easy to understand why, subjectively speaking.
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