Guillaume Apollinaire trans. Cristina Viti
J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps brin de bruyère
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends
I have plucked this grass blade from the fens
Autumn dies like leaves crumpled and curled
Look at me through memory's lens
We shall not meet again in this world
Fenland grass smells like time and like fate
And remember, my love, I will wait.

Click here 1 for another translation of this poem.

Trans. copyright © Cristina Viti 2002

translator's next