High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress So that, between the wind and the terrain, At times a shining stocking would be seen, And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness. Also, at times a jealous insect's dart Bothered out beauties. Suddenly a white Nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight Was a delicate feast for a young fool's heart. Evening fell, equivocal, dissembling, The women who hung dreaming on our arms Spoke in low voices, words that had such charms That ever since our stunned soul has been trembling.
Les Ingénus
Les hauts talons luttaient avec les longues jupes, En sorte que, selon le terrain et le vent, Parfois luisaient des bas de jambes, trop souvent Interceptés--et nous aimions ce jeu de dupes. Parfois aussi le dard d'un insecte jaloux Inquiétait le col des belles sous les branches, Et c'était des éclairs soudains de nuques blanches, Et ce régal comblait nos jeunes yeux de fous. Le soir tombait, un soir équivoque d'automne: Les belles, se pendant rêveuses à nos bras, Dirent alors des mots si spécieux, tout bas, Que notre âme depuis ce temps tremble et s'étonne.
Translation from Modern Poets of France: A Bilingual Anthology, edited and translated by Louis Simpson, published by Story Line Press, 1997. Copyright © 1997 by Louis Simpson. All rights reserved. Used with permission.
It shows up one summer in a greatcoat, storms through the house confiscating, says it must be paid and quickly, says it must take everything. Your children stare into their cornflakes, your wife whispers only once to stop it, because she loves you and she sees it darken the room suddenly like a stain. What did you do to deserve it, ruining breakfast on a balmy day? Kiss your loved ones. Night is coming. There was no life without it anyway.
From New and Selected Poems by Michael Ryan. Copyright © 2004 by Michael Ryan. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.