The Utopian

By Pierre Troullier.

“No Pardon / Can wash blood / When it’s spilt / And since flood / No garden / Can hide guilt.”

Two poems.

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Sylvia’s Ghost

Your ghost is here to stay

No matter how we’re sane

It can’t be chased away

And will bring us more pain

Your ghost is here to stay

Your ghost is here to hurt

You hope we’ve cried before

Tears often turn to dirt

We’ll suffer to the core

You ghost is here to hurt

Your ghost is here to kill

Let us hope for the best

We will run down the hill

No matter how we’re blessed

Your ghost is here to kill

Behold the ghost descending like a dove

Whose lethal dart’s pointed at us : it’s love

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Poe’s Bilingual Tomb

No pardon

Can wash blood

When it’s spilt.

And since flood,

No garden

Can hide guilt.

·

Où commence le jour et où finit la nuit ?

Je ne compte pas ceux qui prétendent savoir

Quand le soleil retient l’ombre et quand il la fuit :

L’instant où tout bascule est impossible à voir.

L’artiste, sans tabou, soigne son côté noir

Comme il est soucieux de conserver sa part

De lumière. L’accord des deux s’appelle l’art.

·

The sun

Is set.

The bet

Is done.

Believe

And leave

This earth

For new

And true

Rebirth.

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Pierre Troullier, a French playwright, poet and translator, teaches literature at the French Naval Academy. He is published by Les Belles Lettres.