Words charm me
make me sign
And ask that I
work
at any salary
to find them–
Words rush
under my pen
like a crowd
of workers
Words demand
their right to speak
and seek to establish a dictatorship
of words over life–
They need someone who understands them
who will be at their service–
Alas! I am not that person
Words pass through my hands
Sitting and sleeping
at the feet of the poet
Who alone knows what they are worth
Words will die if no one
stirs them in time–
Words are silence which speaks–
Silent speaking bubbles.
(Translated from the French by Kristen Prevallet)
