Mon Fils Mon Bourreau.(Translation) . Poem by Michael Walker
Mon Fils Mon Bourreau.(Translation) .
Mon fils, mon bourreau,
Je te prends dans mes bras,
Calme et petit et a peine leve,
Et celui que mon corps rechauffe.
La mort douce, mon petit fils, notre instrument
De l'immortalite,
Tes cris et tes faims documentent
Notre declin physique.
Nous avons vingt-cinq et vingt-deux ans,
Nous qui semblions vivre pour toujours,
Nous remarquons la vie durable en toi
Et nous commencons a mourir ensemble.
-13 March,2018.
- 'My Son My Executioner'.Donald hall (b.1928) .
'The Penguin anthology of 20th. Century American Poetry', p.280.
Rita Dove, editor.
However the man observes that he and his wife will grow old, their bodies will decay, while their son will outlive them, which makes him think that he and his wife will now 'start to die together'.
It is an unchanging law of nature that children mostly live much longer than their parents, but not always.
Donald Hall deserves his place on the top 500 poets. Hall's long poem 'Prophecy' really excited me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 8:01:40 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
My Son My Executioner, by Donald hall (b.1928) is beautifully and brilliantly translated with beauty of expression of original poem. Due to effect of aging human bodies decay. You are very right. Unchanging law of nature is that children mostly live much longer than their parents, but not always. Souls unite and separate one day. This is a tender and emotional poem...10