Entre les rangées d'arbres de l'avenue des Gobelins
Une statue de marbre me conduit par la main
Aujourd'hui c'est dimanche les cinémas sont pleins
Les oiseaux dans les branches regardent les humains
Et la statue m'embrasse mais personne ne nous voit
Sauf un enfant aveugle qui nous montre du doigt.
You might have got a French speaker rather than an illiterate computer to read this poem. Go on. You know it makes sense.
Sunday (English) Between the rows of trees on l’Avenue des Gobelins A marble statue takes me by the hand Today is Sunday the cinemas are full The birds in the branches watch the humans And the statue kisses me but no one sees us Except for a blind child who points at us. Adam, Emil
Such a sad mournful poem Crowds and singularity yet the blind see and the sighted are blind.
Sunday By Jacques Prevert Between the rows of trees on the Avenue des Gobelins A marble statue is leading me by the hand Today is Sunday; the cinemas are full The birds in the branches are watching the humans And the statue is kissing me but nobody sees us Except a blind child, who is pointing the finger at us. Dimanche est écrit par Jacques Prévert et traduit en anglais par Hébert Logerie Sunday is written by Jacques Prévert and translated in English by Hébert Logerie
Sunday By Jacques Prevert Between the rows of trees on the Avenue des Gobelins A marble statue is leading me by the hand Today is Sunday; the cinemas are full The birds in the branches are watching the humans And the statue is kissing me but nobody sees us Except a blind child, who is pointing the finger at us. Sunday is written by Jacques Prévert and translated in English by Hébert Logerie Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Between the rows of trees on the avenue des Gobelins A marble statue leads me by the hand Today is Sunday the cinemas are full The birds in the branches watch the humans And the statue embraces me but no one sees us Except a blind child who points the finger at us. (By Google) the embracing sees none the the blind child (the future) /// superb poem penned
A poem with a language where what seems not real or possible has a twist at the end.
What a jewel! Thanks for choosing!