Shooting stars

Mihály_Zichy_Falling_Stars

Nous sommes tombés du haut,
on dit, brillants,
éclat perdu dans les ténèbres osseuses
nous perdons le fil
filant comme des étoiles.

Il était une fois dans un rêve,
enjambé de chevaux bleus,
des petits fleurs blancs poussaient
dans les empreintes de doux sabots¬
et l’odeur de miel. Mais

tout change, file,
dans des flaques d’eau et de sang
la vie sous les bottes,
qui battent la terre jusqu’à la boue—
il n’y aura pas de tempête, pas de cris,
seul les gémissements
d’une étoile qui s’étouffe.

Étoiles filantes

We fell from the summits they say,
dazzling, brilliance lost
in the bone-strewn darkness.
We are losing the thread,
labyrinth unravelling like unstrung stars.

Once upon a time, in a dream,
blue horse-galloped,
small white flowers grew
in gentle hoofprints
and the perfume of honey. But

all changes. What runs
in pools of water and blood
is life beneath the boots that beat
the mild earth to mud.

There will be no storm, no screams,
only the whimpering
of a single strangled star.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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