In the Lane

after Jules Supervielle

Be careful not to touch the shoulder
of the passing horseman.
He would turn around
and it would be night time,
a starless night, no curve or cloud.

So what would become of
all that is the sky
the moon and her journey
the noise of the sun?

Ah, you must wait
until a second horseman
as powerful as the first,
consents to come your way.

For a Dead Poet

after Jules Supervielle

Quickly, give him an ant,
a tiny ant — but for him alone.

We mustn't cheat the dead!

Or give him a swallow’s beak,
the slightest stone, a blade of grass …

He's full of emptiness
and can't yet understand his fate.

In return he’ll offer you a choice
of strange, intangible gifts:

a reflection bedded under snow,
the lining of the highest cloud,

the silence at the heart of noise,
an unprotected star. All these

he’ll name and give to you.
Poet without a dog, without anyone at all.

The Dog

after Jules Supervielle

I'm a stray, a wandering dog —
that’s all I know.
Except when a poet's voice
falls on me from above,
and singles me out
for a special treat.

I’ve no speech of my own,
only a bark
to clear my throat,
light my way through the fog.

But I have no wish to be freed
from obscurity —
want nothing to do with
a head full of words
dropped on me by a stranger.

I’m a stray, a wandering dog.
Ask nothing more of me.