Chiaroscuro Poem by Michel Galiana

Chiaroscuro



The song, to be sure, was not lost,
But no mouth was left to sing it,
Nor, to shape the smile, were there lips,
Nor, for the avowal, were there words.

And when the storm of flesh declined,
As would clouds be scattered by the wind,
Only a burnt down, reeking cove
Was left that was called 'Field of love'.

Bee-like I move about that wound
Where no orchid nor rose has bloomed
All my tunes with a voice took flight.
All stars have deserted my night.

This echo vanishes in the depths of my silence.

CLAIR OBSCUR

La chanson n'était pas perdue
Mais il n'y avait plus de bouche
Ni de lèvre pour le sourire
Ni même de mot pour l'aveu.

Et quand toute la chair se fut dissipée
A la façon d'un nuage
Il ne resta plus qu'une place calcinée
Qui s'appelait le champ de l'amour.

Comme l'abeille je tourne sur cette plaie
Où ne fleurira l'orchidée ni la rose.
Toute ma musique est partie au fil d'une voix
Les étoiles ont déserté ma nuit.

Cet écho qui s'éteint au fond de mon silence.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success