Poetry in Translation

New poem I've translated and versioned today from Senegalese poet and diplomat Birag Diop (1906-1989)

Spring

(Translation and version of Vernale by Birag Diop, 1960)

Weeping summons

death from the scent of lilies,

a demon from yesterday’s perfection

tires my heart.

A little perfume

lingers on the faded bouquet

and my heart is sad, grim

like the hearts of the damned.

I had a beautiful dream,

today, a little love.

But like a burst bubble

my dream is fled.