townx

A poem I come back to all the time. Superficially simple, but with such clear, painstaking and vivid imagery; I love the gentle falling rhythm in the lines towards the end of the poem, how each line pivots around its centre. Shame I can't really appreciate it in French.

Together with me recall: the sky of Paris, that giant autumn crocus...
We went shopping for hearts at the flower girl's booth:
they were blue and they opened up in the water.
It began to rain in our room,
and our neighbour came in, Monsieur Le Songe, a lean little man.
We played cards, I lost the irises of my eyes;
you lent me your hair, I lost it, he struck us down.
He left by the door, the rain followed him out.
We were dead and were able to breathe.