Three Poems

The Notice 

The child pushing along the ring of a barrel 
as his makeshift hoop 
runs alone and shouts 
but to the one who has just spelled out 
beneath the N and the eagle of Empire 
the draft notice 
the old man says simply 
in the blazing sun while drinking a foamy pear cider: 
“the next century will be worse” 
though lovers go by singing.

The Fire 

Ivy hung in long vines 
from the gray house 
of the metaphysician 
fire took it one night 
lighting up the cropped plain 
ashes floated in the air 
through the smell of burnt hay 
then the heavens cleared 
above the ruin overrun 
by scores of motherless children 
who played in its breaches 
dressed in dark rags 
imagining their long life.

Village Square 

In the village square 
at the foot of the church 
one of the drinkers puts on 
the kepi of his soldier friend as a joke 
above them the hour strikes so loudly 
they flinch 
a horse that is unhitched 
when it stamps the soft earth 
radiates an abundant calm 
they say to get there 
leave before nightfall.
 
Translated from the French by Andrew Seguin



Reprinted from Earthly: Selected Poems of Jean Follain (The Song Cave, 2025) with the permission of the publisher and translator.