poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

You don't survive in me
because of memories;
nor are you mine because
of a lovely longing's strength.

What does make you present
is the ardent detour
that a slow tenderness
traces in my blood.

I do not need
to see you appear;
being born sufficed for me
to lose you a little less.


Translated by A. Poulin

Added: 2 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 9:24 AM | Viewed: 2567 times

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