Indian Ocean, By Valery Larbaud

Oh night of tropical summer!

Glittering atolls emerging from blue abysses!

The blazing Southern Cross!

Oh to lie stretched out on the deck of a great ship

En route to Malaysia,

Naked, gaping at the infinity that gapes at me.

(My heart of an abandoned child, Oh dear sick friend,

My heart would be content to press your hand

In this shadow on fire of dazzling

Nights in which I would like to take flight.)

On the ships of olden days, with their flags,

The stern a palace with a hundred gilded windows,

Surmounted by a Himalaya of sails,

One did not have, uninterrupted, this palpitation of stars,

This vision of Creation, immensely

Silent -- the firmament all unrolled above one’s head.

I long for a spring morning, somewhat gray, in the hotel room,

The corner window opening on rue Noailles, fresh air,

And to see over there (five o’clock, no trams running yet)

The calm Old Port and boats of the Chateau d’If.

From “Modern Poets of France: A Bilingual Anthology,” selected and translated by Louis Simpson (Story Line Press: 320 pp., $16.95)