elena johnson

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

August 1st, Section III (excerpt)

It's too hot for
        Early August, the trees
Weary from July's heat.
        Leaves yellowed, energy
Returning to earth.
        Except for the unconquerable oaks,
Shelter of singing cicadas, and
        Spiders sculpting
Webs. In their branches,
        The ants dance
Their delicate steps, ballet of summer's end.

Like the songbirds, I hide beneath the leaves
        Seeking shade.
Gazing at the white, merciless sun,
        I ask withered questions.
How, through evolution and persecution,
        Through life and death, how could my bones, my blood,
My eyes, my balls, my head
        Have come to be, here? Attached by my ancestors
Onto the first men to walk, onto the first fish to
        Swim in the primordial muck,
Attached by my arteries onto the first inkling
        Of the first idea in
Mid-afternoon on a path
        That leaves the countryside of southwest Louisiana
Destined for who knows where, attached as my forebears
Scattered seeds of their decisions
Behind them and in front, by accident or by way of crooked fate.
        Saddened by the arrogance of men,
Soothed by the beauty of the fields,
        And the beauty of the trees.


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