Eugene Guillevic

Elegies

He probably held too tightly
(In the palm of his hand,
Looking out on the sea)

To the sand the wind
Was taking, grain by grain —

He who is held by the fear
Of becoming mist.

Il aura trop tenu
Dans le fond de sa paume
En face de la mer

Du sable que le vent
Y prenait grain par grain

Celui que tient la peur
De devenir nuage.

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