Poem of the day

Today, I’d like to share with you one of my favorites poem: 

Les enfants qui s’aiment by Jacques Prévert

 

Les enfants qui s’aiment s’embrassent debout
Contre les portes de la nuit
Et les passants qui passent les désignent du doigt
Mais les enfants qui s’aiment
Ne sont là pour personne
Et c’est seulement leur ombre
Qui tremble dans la nuit
Excitant la rage des passants
Leur rage, leur mépris, leurs rires et leur envie
Les enfants qui s’aiment ne sont là pour personne
Ils sont ailleurs bien plus loin que la nuit
Bien plus haut que le jour
Dans l’éblouissante clarté de leur premier amour.

The children lovers embrace upright
Against night’s doors
And passers-by who pass by point their finger at them
But the children lovers
Are there for no one
And it’s only their shadow
Which quivers in the night
Stirring up the anger of the passers-by
Their anger, their contempt, their laughs and their desire
The children lovers are there for no one
They’re elsewhere much further than the night
Much higher than the day
In the dazzling light of their first love.

[Jacques Prevert (1900-1977) lived most of his life in Paris . He was a poet and screenwriter who lived most of his life in Paris.  Now he’s a symbol of the French-speaking world. There is a quirk fact about him :he only completed primary education and he hated writing.]

 

 

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