A fresh wind of jasmine-scented air – I throw
windows wide, run outside to breathe deeply
and rejoice in the essence of spring; read the
paper standing in the sun, lay down in the sun-
room and slept during the afternoon
Awake I gather jasmine, take blooms into my
sitting room, pearls on my lamp, silver threads
like dewy cobwebs on transparent fabric; run
to the wooden deck, practise reciting the French
alphabet, counting un to cent* au Francais as
Numbers always trip me up, replace coarse
winter sheets with delightful satin, air dogs’
blankets, drag a case full of books from my
work cupboard into the guest room, place
suitcases in the car to bring more papers
Home – they’ll be destroyed at work; can-
not bear parting with them after filing trans-
lation sheets enthusiastically, diplomas and
poetry among them, all to be salvaged before
throwing the rest away
I plead for a chance to keep and sort them,
looking at dreams - and dreaming again…
* One to Hundred
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem