Category: French
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I’ve dreamt of you so often that you become unreal. Is there still time to reach your living body and kiss on your mouth the birth of the voice so dear to me?
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I have dreamed of you so long now your realness does wane. Is there time yet to meet that vital body and unto those lips kiss birth to the voice so dear to me?
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I’ve dreamed of you so much that your reality slips away Is there still time to touch that warm body Kiss the lips where that voice is born Your beloved voice
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I have dreamed of you so much that you are losing reality. Will there be time to reach that living body and kiss that mouth, where the voice so dear to me is born?
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I’ve dreamed of you so much that you lose your reality. Is there still time to reach that living body and to kiss on that mouth the birth of the voice so dear to me?
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I have dreamed of you so much you’ve begun to seem unreal Is there still time to reach the living body and to kiss on your mouth the birth of the voice so dear to me?
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I’ve dreamt so much of you that you lose your reality. Is there still time to reach this living form and to kiss the birthplace on those lips of that beloved voice?
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Seven Poems by Olivier Brossard
between form that offers and a haunting tide, of return in the crescent evening a dreaded face responds within a bilious light: the island must continue its uplift via new bark
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Six Poems by Gabriel Zimmermann
A row of blue children raises my eyelids. On the table of earth the sky has not poured The morning’s colors: dawn seeping
World Poetry Review 