Sweet october
(Raimon)
that slowly spread at random;
the birch, laurel, elm, ash, and chestnut
received their yellow, greens, ochres and reds.
A slight wind made the foliage move,
a soft sound filled the clear air,
a morbid light veiled the morning.
How can I forget that moment of beauty?
I remember well the distant murmur,
the brief track of city life,
the deceitful enclosure of human trade,
the silent cushion of that time and place.
I walked along enjoying the fine weather
quite in harmony with all my surroundings;
past and future were not present at all,
and the fleeting moment made my life full.
I heard voices almost at my side,
in the last part of a longer conversation.
-Come with me,
I won't do anything to you that you don't want.
-No.
-Why not?
-Because I don't know you well enough yet.
-It might be a way of knowing each other better.
Come with me.
I won't do anything to you that you don't want.
-I'm very young and I've got lots of time.
-But I haven't got time. Time has got me.
Come with me. Wherever you like.
With me.
-My hands find it pleasant
to caress your hair.
-That is already turning white.
-Your eyes have looks
of surprise and desire;
they are the looks of a boy.
-I'm twice your age.
-You kiss with strength and tenderness at the same time.
-Your breasts are small and full,
your skin is like a grape.
-You seem very clean
and I like the smell of your body.
You embrace me and I embrace you.
Here leaning against the trunk of a tree
we must look a strange couple.
-Come with me.
I won't do anything to you that you don't want.
-No, I don't know you well enough, I've told you.
It's getting late.
I have to go.
-Not yet. Stay.
-Goodbye.
-Goodbye, sweetness and youth.
Your eyes are the colour
that the morning sun keeps
among the highest branches of the trees.
-Goodbye, man.
-Goodbye, girl.
I couldn't, nor do I want to take my eyes away
from all the colours of the trees I've seen.
Beautiful song still not sung,
distant dance that's never been danced.
A long time ago there was a child
with wide open eyes and sharp ears;
this ingenuous and anxious child
lives within the body, the precarious body of a man.
Sweet October lit up the colours
that slowly spread at random;
the birch, laurel, elm, ash, and chestnut
received their yellow, greens, ochres and reds.
(1987)
Translated: Angela Buxton
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