11 (in a sequence of twelve)
Everywhere each thing had its color. The earth
Was God’s gift: a cube in the sphere
Turned by angels; the garden which the gods
Wished to live in. Each mouth retold
This fable as if one of the Muses
Had given it breath. The flowers, the animals,
The stars, the mineral kingdom coexisted in man,
Who saw himself larger than he was, body
And soul grafted onto the sky, and scanned his death
Amidst immortality. He built a temple
around himself, but also inside, an immaculate image
Where the vital task bred music
And metamorphosis. That’s how the world was.
Some particle within us keeps this in mind.
(Laboissière-en-Thelle: Wednesday, August 29, 1990)
LITURGY II (ENGLISHING ROBERT MARTEAU)
For the tenth poem in the sequence, click here.