Bring4th Poetry

[flofrog]

They had left the window opened since the night was so hot.
The moon, which was full, had risen.
It fell on the small black table and on a section of the wood floor.
From its reflection the whole room was lit. In the shadow,
the white sheet, which covered the bed, made a wide pale grey beach.
He turned towards her. She was silently asleep, away as usual.
She lay down three quarters on her stomach, the shoulder blades
sticking out and the pale sheet was sliding down the narrow and dark back.
He would have grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him,
but he didn’t want to wake her up.


He got up. He quietly slipped into his pair of old linen pants,
and got out of the room. He went down the stairs and out to the garden.
It was pretty light. He went through the catalpas grove.
His naked feet were treading on the grass then the pebbles,
before reaching the raspberry hedge.
He picked up a few raspberries then stepped over the wire fence,
and entered the hay field which swayed a bit in the breeze.
The soil was cool, soft, supple, sandy.
He worked his way to the middle of the field and looked around.
The light from the moon washed a little over everything.
The two poplars were having a tremendous time.
One couldn’t hear anything, neither toad nor cricket.
All that heartily slept under the diaphanous glow.
He sat down into the track he had made, and then stretched out on his back.
Some hay stems were biting his bare back.
Above him he could see the hay swaying, and one or two stars
that the stems fleetingly hid with the breeze.
Little by little his body dug itself heavy into the loose ground.
He stayed this way for a long time.
Then he slept for ten minutes, woke up, and stood up.
He went back slowly the way he came. Back in his room,
before going to bed, he went to the window,
but one couldn’t see the path he had made in the hay.