Asphodèle

Quel pouvoir a l'amour hors le pardon ?

Williams Carlos Williams

 

ASPHODEL, THAT GREENY FLOWER

 

 

Give me time,

time.

When I was a boy

I kept a book

to which, from time

to time,

I added pressed flowers

until, after a time,

I had a good collection.

The asphodel,

forebodingly,

among them.

I bring you,

reawakened,

a memory of those flowers.

They were sweet

when I pressed them

and retained

something of their sweetness

a long time.

It is a curious odor,

a moral odor,

that brings me

near to you.

The color

was the first to go.

There had come to me

a challenge,

your dear self,

mortal as I was,

the lily’s throat

to the hummingbird !

Endless wealth,

I thought,

held out its arms to me.

A thousand topics

in an apple blossom.

The generous earth itself

gave us lief.

The whole world

became my garden ! […]

Done