Patricia Trudeau

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

ACADIAN AUGUST

It is too hot for the first of August,
        the trees worn out by July's torrid heat,
        their yellowed leaves sapped of energy
        returned to earth.
Save for the oaks, unconquerable,
        haven for singing cicadas
        and spiders weaving webs.
        In their branches, ants perform
        a delicate ballet of the end of summer.

Like the birds, I hide myself under the leaves
        and look for shade,
        watching the pitiless white hot sun
        and turning over questions in my mind:
How do I make my way through evolution, persecution,
        life and death, how could my bones, my blood,
        my eyes, my head, my self, have arrived here?

Connected by my ancestors to the first travellers,
        the first fish to swim in the primordial vase,
        connected by my arteries to the first hint
        of the first idea
Here in the middle of the afternoon on a road
        which runs through the countryside
        of south west Louisiana
        to arrive who knows where,

Connected by the choice of my heritage
        sown by the past as well as the future,
        as much by chance as by twisted destiny,
Grown sorrowful by the arrogance of humanity,
        comforted by the beauty of the fields
        and the trees.
 

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