Dawn

Transformation 1

from Rimbaud's Les Illuminations

Moony haired and mysterious Aurora,
While shadows camped in woods, how is it I,
Yes I, once held you, swan-downed, in my arms?
Summer. Time was still water. I walked away
Waking winds and jewelled dews, while wings rose soundlessly.
I woke you, Dawn, I held you in my arms
Before the cockerels stirred life from the farms.

On one light-splintered footpath, a bold flower
Told me her name. By blonde pigtailed waterfalls,
Threading through pines, I laughed. On, on, I climbed
To the summit, where I touched white morning's veils,
And, Apollonian, I lifted them, one by one.
She fled me down the transepts of my heart,
Transparent, while I prised warm air apart.

Around city steeples, domes, on marble quaysides, I chased, barefoot, in rags, like an untouchable,
I grabbed at her through laurel groves, by waysides,
Panting, I tore at her veils, my poor beggar girl,
Yet grazed only skin surface of her immensity.
Dawn, with her child, fell in woodland, ruddy fingered.
We woke at noon. They were gone. Her perfume lingered.

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