music of spheres

He was walking a frozen road
in his pocket iron keys were jingling
and with his pointed shoe absentmindedly
he kicked the cylinder
of an old can
which for a few seconds rolled its cold emptiness
wobbled for a while and stopped
under a sky studded with stars.

Jean Follain

the human species

The human species has given me
the right to be mortal
the duty to be civilized
a conscience
2 eyes that don’t always function very well
a nose in the middle of my face
2 feet 2 hands
speech

the human species has given me
my father and mother
some brothers maybe who knows
a whole mess of cousins
and some great-grandfathers
the human species has given me
its 3 faculties
feeling intellect and will
each in moderation 32 teeth and 10 fingers a liver
a heart and some other viscera
human species has given me
what I’m supposed to be satisfied with

Raymond Queneau

i must read only children’s books

I must read only children’s books,
Cherish only children’s thoughts,
Scatter all big things far and wide,
Rise up from the deep-rooted sadness.

I’m weary to death of life,
And accept nothing from it,
But I love my unfortunate land
Because I’ve not seen any other.

In a far-off garden I swung
On a simple wooden swing,
And the tall somber fir trees
I recall in misty delirium.

Osip Mandelstam

nocturnal air

I’m petrified
by dead leaves,
by meadows
full of dew.
I’ll sleep.
If you don’t wake me,
I’ll leave beside you my cold heart.

‘What’s that sound
so far away?’
‘Love.
The wind on the panes,
my love!’

Round your neck I placed
the gems of dawn.
Why do you desert me
on this road?
If you go off so far
my bird sobs,
and the green vineyard
won’t give its wine.

‘What’s that sound
so far away?’
‘Love.
The wind on the panes,
my love!’

You’ll never know
how much I’d
have loved you,
snow-sphinx,
in those dawns
when it rains so hard
and the nest comes apart
on the dry branch.

‘What’s that sound
so far away?’
‘Love.
The wind on the panes,
my love!’

Federico Garcia Lorca