To have a place there is my Muse,
To breathe in love, passion, and clues.
Looking through that window,
Seeing those grand green trees,
To sense people happy on the meadow,
Under the blue sky stretched like the seas—
I feel the happiness.
I feel happy with Poe, Sidney, and Plato;
I’m in love with Hardy, Miller, and Marlowe.
Those give attraction
With no more such satisfaction.
To be there is to enjoy the eternity
In the bosom of the central liberty.
Oh! Such pleasure! To have a crayon
When listening to Fabian, Dalida, and Dion;
A feeling je ne change pas,
Because it has that je ne sais quoi.
Oh! Friends. For everyone a have some feeling,
That is different from the other, that is appealing.
They make it a world of art, a place of delight,
Appeals to my heart, and gives me the might.
They are the power, on which I depend,
And I hand a flower and by everyone to be held.
How I wish!
I wish it could last, to have it not passed,
To make it divine, and to tell you:
I wish it always be mine—
To be in that paradise-like heavenly place,
To draw a smile on my lonely face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem