from Gravel
José-Flore Tappy
So white
is the caper flower
opening at dawn
its flexible stem
climbing the rock cliff
I am so stubborn
I haul myself into the open air
persist
from my shoulder
the sky hangs
like a weary bag
*
Shoes off
clumsily we walk
over the heavy
rigorous
gravel of every day
and yet
all these wheat stalks
the bitter ripe lemon tree
the smoked spice of the open sea
beckon
*
A crowd in jubilation
high transparent grass
that moves to the side then rights itself
it's the multiple aerial
thirst rising
toward the necessary water
to the side
on a hollow staircase
I fill my bone spoon
with some paltry rain
*
Now comes the hour
when dust drifts down
alighting noiselessly
on the dark roofs
acrid
like wool
like lichen
*
But the cliff
endures
looms
never weary
of keeping space
at bay
at the foot of this wall
a wonder
it still stands
the immense breeder
of waves
*
Spotted with chalk
with fruit with rust
a big apron tossed
over this stone stomach
it's to its slope
its steep folds
that today my tears
severe in the clear night
one by one
return
is the caper flower
opening at dawn
its flexible stem
climbing the rock cliff
I am so stubborn
I haul myself into the open air
persist
from my shoulder
the sky hangs
like a weary bag
*
Shoes off
clumsily we walk
over the heavy
rigorous
gravel of every day
and yet
all these wheat stalks
the bitter ripe lemon tree
the smoked spice of the open sea
beckon
*
A crowd in jubilation
high transparent grass
that moves to the side then rights itself
it's the multiple aerial
thirst rising
toward the necessary water
to the side
on a hollow staircase
I fill my bone spoon
with some paltry rain
*
Now comes the hour
when dust drifts down
alighting noiselessly
on the dark roofs
acrid
like wool
like lichen
*
But the cliff
endures
looms
never weary
of keeping space
at bay
at the foot of this wall
a wonder
it still stands
the immense breeder
of waves
*
Spotted with chalk
with fruit with rust
a big apron tossed
over this stone stomach
it's to its slope
its steep folds
that today my tears
severe in the clear night
one by one
return
translated from the French by John Taylor
Click here to read the Special Feature: John Taylor on José-Flore Tappy.