A See-through Suitcase is a short anthology of poetry by Deborah Steinmair, a South African poet. She manages to capture beauty and tragedy in a truly exquisite and poignant way – the poems in this anthology are very honest, and have that special type of simplicity that hides great complexity.
I read too little poetry, and anthologies like this remind me why that’s a bad thing.
A moment’s respite
As I break the surface,
Gasping for air,
For light,
For sound and sight.
But it cannot last,
This momentary pause:
The road is still long.
Take a deep breath
Il a mis le café
Dans la tasse
Il a mis le lait
Dans la tasse de café
Il a mis le sucre
Dans le café au lait
Avec la petite cuiller
Il a tourné
Il a bu le café au lait
Et il a reposé la tasse
Sans me parler
Il a allumé
Une cigarette
Il a fait des ronds
Avec la fumée
Il a mis le cendres
Dans le cendrier
Sans me parler
Sans me regarder
Il s’est levé
Il a mis
Son chapeau sur sa tête
Il a mis
Son manteau de pluie
Parce qu’il pleuvait
Et il est parti
Sous la pluie
Sans une parole
Sans me regarder
Et moi j’ai pris
Ma tête dans ma main
Et j’ai pleuré.
Jacques Prévert
This is a poem that we went through in French class, and that I found rather moving. My rough translation follows, although it loses some of its simplicity and elegance.
He poured the coffee
Into the cup
He poured milk
Into the cup of coffee
He added sugar
To the cup of coffee
With the little spoon
He stirred
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without talking to me
He lit
A cigarette
He blew rings
With the smoke
He put the ashes
In the ashtray
Without talking to me
Without looking at me
He stood
He put
His hat on his head
He put on
His raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
In the rain
Without a remark
Without looking at me
And me, I put
My head in my hand
And I cried
A Thousand Words 