Michel Galiana

Rookie (1933-1999 / France)

Almsgiving - Poem by Michel Galiana

My gift was once a coin to buy wheat and power,
Philtre that caravans carried to trade afar,
Gold hand to enforce the Prince's rule and order,
An invisible, yet ever haunting splendour.
May it help you to your mouthful of pure water,
To the oatmeal unstuck from the dark oven's tar,
And, when the granaries and lofts are left empty,
To fancy that you still have your own property.
Once, the gates will give way under the battering rams,
Driven by whips and hits, depart the crying lambs.
My gift will lie on the castle's reeking remains
In wait of a dawn whose return is uncertain.

Mon don, cette médaille qui fut blé, pouvoir,
Philtre que charriaient au loin les caravanes,
La main du prince toujours présente à travers l'or,
Une splendeur invisible et jamais éclipsée,
Puisses-tu par elle obtenir la gorgée d'eau pure,
La galette détachée du four ténébreux,
Et lorsque seront vides les greniers et les silos,
L'illusion de posséder quelque chose.
Puis les portes céderont sous les béliers,
Des files de pleurs s'éloigneront sous les fouets
Et mon don croupira sur les débris du palais calciné
Attendant une aurore incertaine.


Comments about Almsgiving by Michel Galiana

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Friday, February 23, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, January 22, 2011


[Report Error]