Arenes de Lutece
There are only a few chairs
And the grass is damp
Beneath our buttocks when the Steinway’s
Phrases rise, but the pianist
Tonight is a fox who will not
Need to make Schubert shriek.
High up between the notes the airplanes
Pass by, the tail end of their rumbling
Sometimes fills up the curve
Of a rest, while a little
Girl rolls down her slope of lawn
Right to the edge of the rostrum around which
We’ll gather afterwards for champagne
And harmonies shattered by laughter.
Translated by Marilyn Hacker
Page(s) 73
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