EXIL EXILE
Jean-Baptiste Para trans. Olivia McCannon
Il y avait des mains sous le sable.
Il y avait une rose pensive.
L’aube rougissait comme un fruit savoureux.

Maintenant, mon pays s’éloigne avec ceux qui partent.
Maintenant, la tristesse et le temps se ressemblent.
Loin du fleuve, une source a perdu son chemin.
There were hands under the sand.
There was a rose lost in thought.
Dawn turned red like a delicious fruit.

Now, my country moves away with those who leave.
Now, sadness and time look alike.
Far from the river, a spring has lost its way.

Copyright © Jean-Baptiste Para 2006; trans. copyright © Olivia McCannon 2006


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