Music Of Spheres

He was walking a frozen road

in his pocket iron keys were jingling

and with his pointed shoe absent-mindedly

he kicked the cylinder

of an old can

which for a few seconds rolled its cold emptiness

wobbled for a while and stopped

under a sky studded with stars.

-Jean Follain

Translated from French by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Hass

 

 

 

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