Susan Spier

Translation of Zachary Richard's poem "1^er août, Section III (extrait)."
Traduction du poème "1er août, Section III (extrait)" de Zachary Richard.

August I, Section III (excerpt)

It's too hot for
        The beginning of August, the trees
Depleted by the heat of July.
        Leaves yellowed, energy
Flowing back to the earth.
        Except for the invincible oak
The refuge for chirping cicadas,
        And spiders spinning
Their webs. In their branches,
        The ants dance
Intricately, the end-of-summer ballet.

Like the birds, I hide beneath the leaves
        Seeking shade.
Gazing at the white and pitiless sun,
        Asking the age-old questions:
How through evolution and persecution
        Through life and death, how could my bones, my blood,
My eyes, my balls, my head
        Have gotten here? Bound by my ancestors
To the first walking beings, the first fish
        Swimming in primordial sludge,
Bound through my arteries to the first hint
        Of the first idea in the
Middle of an afternoon on a road
        That goes from the country south west of Louisiana
And arrives who-knows-where, bound by choices from my
        Heritage sown both fore
And aft, as much by accident as by a cockeyed destiny.
        Saddened by man's arrogance,
Soothed by the beauty of the fields
        And the trees.

Home / Page d'accueil