June 25, 2005

Eugene Guillevic


He probably held too tightly
(In the palm of his hand,
Looking out on the sea)

To the sand the wind
Was taking, grain by grain —

He who is held by the fear
Of becoming mist.

Il aura trop tenu
Dans le fond de sa paume
En face de la mer

Du sable que le vent
Y prenait grain par grain

Celui que tient la peur
De devenir nuage.

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