Ewa Demarczyk - Sur le pont d'Avignion

This poem is a solar vein on the wall
Like photography of all springs.
Canticles of rain I will bring you -
faded musical notes in the sky bell
like wind's breathing of water.
The invisible gentlemen are dancing
"on the bridge in Avignon".
Green, old-fashioned playing
like anemic buds of silence.
Breathe the tree, then you will hear it
Like a ray - a taut tone,
Like on the thinnest wind's scale
The maidens' leafy dresses are dancing
"on the bridge in Avignon".
Into the trees, in green windows' frame
through the phantoms of the cities - silvery gothic.
Goldenfawn birds are whirling
like lutes escaped from the hands.
In green forests - white does
passes into ever quieter dance.
Men are dancing, ladies are dancing
"on the bridge in Avignon".