Fish Poem by Jules Supervielle
Fish
Fish with your slow memories in deep creeks,
what can I do here with these? I know nothing
of you, except a little foam and shadow
and that one day, like me, you will die.
So why do you come to question my dreams
as if I could somehow be of use to you?
Go back to the sea, leave me on my dry earth.
We were not made to mix our days.
Translations by IAN SEED.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 3:40:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
