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Claire Genoux 
Ellen Hinsey, Translator
Translated from the French by Ellen Hinsey
Having climbed this hill suspended in the March sky
I can see more clearly under this kingdom of leaves
If one day I enter this soil
without having given you
the rain-filled secrets of morning returning to the valley
without having let your fingers play
along certain glowing shores
when I have returned this body, loaned to me
this no longer inhabited shelter
- the doors slammed shut under the cold wind
if you have refused to let yourself go
refused to return by the path
where the high grass has the soft scent of mint
when roots nourish my veins
will you find words to calm
the flower which brushes you with its woolly blossom?
what will you say when an entire dew-filled landscape
sings an ancient night mass
like a pure hymn of farewell?
If I had loved better
these days with their good smell of bark
these copper twilights
the mountains exposing their toothless jaws
if I had walked more upright
along trails that lead towards dawn
where faith shelters us from doubts and time
If I had known how to savor the full laugh
of the river that rocks in its fleece of leaves
my head held to the trunk´s pillow
my cheek cast among thyme
if I hadn´t fled like a coward to the back streets
and believed in the false lights of the city
in its burning waltz of noise
Perhaps then I wouldn´t-stumbling,
rake my wooden head against the walls of night
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