Comme l'Albatros (Like the Albatross)

Comme les ailes d’un aigle,
Son coeur bat,
Elevant son esprit
Aux cieux,
Tandis que, lui,
Maladroit comme l’albatros,
Il est empêché par la peur. 

Once in your Lifetime

I brought you flowers one day.
Small and fragile they were,
But a scent as luscious
As the locks upon your head
Diffused from their lips
As each one whispered to you
The secret of my cares.
Every crease upon my brow
That developed in your absence
Disappeared when you were near.
Every tendon spasmed
As your gaze pierced my bone.
But my cares you did not guard,
And their petals began to fall
Until you threw them all away.

And then, you saw I had been brave
When, years later,
You reflected on my sacrifice,
The open-wound
I faced to the sky where you stood,
Supremely distant.
Offering no balm,
You had showered acid rain,
And the rain from your memories
Turned into tears trickling down
The creased brow upon
Your trodden face.
And this time, you brought me flowers—
But you laid them on my grave.

Covered

On the bookshelf lies
A tightly bound book
With leather trim,
Prim and proper,
No pages bent out of shape,
Though old and faded—
Your gaze she both attracts and repels.
Barely used but aged,
She sits, waiting to be opened
One last time.

She tells a story of adventure,
Of risk, that stimulates the mind,
Body and soul,
A passionate tale,
Filled with both humor and pain,
Of purity, of desire,
Of loss and gain,
Echoing laughter,
Stained with tears.
Candor prefaces the pages
Dedicated to eternal beauty
Waiting to be unveiled.
Each metaphor challenges
The potential reader,
But should he uncover the meaning
In the literary ocean,
Our hero will reach the truth
Hidden in its depths.

However, none of this you know,
Because, before removing the book
Completely from the shelf,
You replace her,
And your fingers continue
To a softer neighbor—
One that has more oft been used.

She sneezes in the shifting dust and thinks:
If only you knew,
You would never have put me back down.