Till a sail of the windmill comes loose
Ivens waits on a chair for the wind
till the tip of a dune hollow crumbles
for the wind on a chair waits Ivens
till the train dissolves in a plume of smoke
Ivens on a chair waits for the wind
till the dust makes his eyes water
on a chair Ivens waits for the wind
till the sweat on his chin dries up
on a chair for the wind waits Ivens
till the beards of camels wave
till grains like fleas take flight
till a streamer gets caught in a kite line
till his stick falls down like a golf club
till the sand bubbles like foam in the surf
till the lid of his suitcase opens
on a chair on the hilltop Ivens points
there the wind sleeps in a desert cave.
translated in English by Paul Vincent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem