You wish to know the name
Of this low ruined house.
It is called John and Joan
In some other land.
When high winds pass
Its doorstep where nothing
Sings or appears.
It is John and Joan,
And from their grey faces
The day's plaster falls.
Again I see the window pane
Of ancient summers.
Do you remember them?
Far off the most shining,
The arch daughter of shadows.
Today, this evening,
We shall light a fire
In the great hall.
Then we shall depart
And let it live for the dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really enjoyed this version ofJean Et Jeanne well realised..Well done, and have saved into favourites and you are right to compare with Lowell's The Old Flame. Many thanks.
Bonnefoy and Lowell are both favourite poets. France has produced an incredible array of outstanding poets from Baudelaire onwards and the States have done pretty well too with Eliot, Stevens, Lowell, Plath and Anne Sexton. A golden Age for both! i translated Bonnefoy's Hic Locus est Patriae too. Thanks for you comments, Kevin.