Alain Fabre-Catalan

http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Simic http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/charles-simic

  Some­times walk­ing late at night I stop before a closed butch­er shop. There is a sin­gle light in the store Like the light in which the con­vict digs his tun­nel. An apron hangs […]

  When I see a cock­roach, I don’t grow vio­lent like you. I stop as if a friend­ly greet­ing Had passed between us. This roach is famil­iar to me. We met here and there, […]

  It hangs from heav­en to earth. There are trees in it, cities, rivers, small pigs and moons. In one cor­ner the snow falling over a charg­ing cav­al­ry, in anoth­er women are plant­i­ng rice. […]

  It isn’t the body That’s a stranger. It’s some­one else. We poke the same Ugly mug At the world. When I scratch, He scratch­es too. There are women Who claim to have held […]

  I love to stay in bed All morn­ing, Cov­ers thrown off, naked, Eyes closed, lis­ten­ing. Out­side they are open­ing Their primers In the lit­tle school Of the corn­field. There’s a smell of damp […]

  Take down its ears first, Care­ful­ly, so they don’t spill over. With a sharp whis­tle slit its bel­ly open. If there are ash­es in it, close your eyes And blow them whichev­er way […]