Paul Fort

1872 - 1960 / Reims, Marne département, France

The Night of Storm

BOWED o'er my staff, but raising not my head, I did not see the lightning flare. O my flock! I saw the two green eye-balls of a cat flit in the air.

He is in the lime-trees, mewing. What a gale! I hear Pluto, my dog, bark. I hear some one hail me 'Daphnis' in the pasture-land. Has death come to my house in the deep dark?

There are great shadows coming, round one lantern shed. Silence. And then a voice- father, your distant voice: 'Amaryllis is dead.'

Bleating, all my flock recoil. Pluto is howling at my feet. I have no longer any flock, and Death is on me: this is his breath's heat.

Yes, with one flash of lightning heaven has struck two lilies! I will go to gather asphodel with Amaryllis.

O my flock, I am dying. The storm bursts. Alas! alas! Damon, the drunkard, is telling me under the lantern: 'All things pass....'

translated by Jethro Bithell
218 Total read