Yves Bonnefoy: “Summer Rain”

Summer Rain

I.

But the most beloved
and still most cruel
of our memories:
summer rain,
sudden, brief.

We walked, and it was
in another world.
Our mouths were drunk
on the smell of grass.

Earth,
the fabric of rain clung to you.
You were like a breast
some painter might have dreamed.

II.

And soon after the sky
permitted us
the alchemy of gold
we’d sought so long.

We touched it, brilliant,
on its lower branches.
We loved its taste
of water on our lips.

And when we gathered
sticks and fallen leaves,
the smoke and then
suddenly the firelight
were gold again
in that golden night.

Yves Bonnefoy

Translated from French by Paul Weinfield, © 2015
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