Skip to main content
Outdated Browser

For the best experience using our website, we recommend upgrading your browser to a newer version or switching to a supported browser.

More Information

Poetry

It was a November of bitter rain and snow blackened by use

By Vénus Khoury-Ghata
Translated from French by Marilyn Hacker
we filed the dead leaves by size to ease the task of the forest that was absent for  
   reasons known only to itself
The parents had left with the door
We mistook puddles for creeks
pebbles for meteorites
the wind’s hordes for wolves
A child would liquefy as soon as a snowflake touched the ground
We could hold out till Epiphany
handling our feet like toys
waiting for a redistribution of parents
 
© Vénus Khoury-Ghata. By arrangement with the author. Translation  © 2012 by Marilyn Hacker. All rights reserved.
English French (Original)
we filed the dead leaves by size to ease the task of the forest that was absent for  
   reasons known only to itself
The parents had left with the door
We mistook puddles for creeks
pebbles for meteorites
the wind’s hordes for wolves
A child would liquefy as soon as a snowflake touched the ground
We could hold out till Epiphany
handling our feet like toys
waiting for a redistribution of parents
 
© Vénus Khoury-Ghata. By arrangement with the author. Translation  © 2012 by Marilyn Hacker. All rights reserved.

C’etait novembre en pluies acides et neiges noircies par I’usage

C’etait novembre en pluies acides et neiges noircies par I’usage
Nous classions les feuilles mortes par ordre de taille pour faciliter la tache de la forêt absente pour des raisons connues d’elle seule
Les parents partis avec la porte
Nous prenions les flaques d’eau pour des criques
les cailloux pour des météorites
les meutes de vent pour des loups
un enfant se liquéfiait dès qu’un flacon touchait terre
nous pouvions tenk jusqu’à 1’épiphanie
Manier nos pieds comme des jouets
en attendant une redistribution des parents
il nous arrivait de les apercevoir entre deux couches de terre
le coup de pied asséné au sillon faisait crier un caillou
Mais ce n’étaient qu’hallucinations de bûcheron à la herse rouillée

Read Next

february-2010-worth-ten-thousand-words-part-iv-international-graphic-novels-from-farm-54-galit-seliktar-and-gilad-seliktar-hero