Estelle Coppolani, translated by Vasantha Sambamurti
I remember a river
at a bend in the road
behind a small chapel
painted red
a ravine has dug its bed
in the shape of a coral
next to the mango trees
a big bilimbi tree
offers its garnished vine
to grasshoppers and ants
since the past few days
bean shoots
have started to appear
by the grace of the summer rains
on the way to school
a little girl noticed
in the velvet light
a silhouette planted
in the rocks, the trunks
in the mystery’s presence
the girl believes she senses on her neck
cricket legs
tracing a segment of an enigma
in an old alphabet
by this morning vision
she conceived a prayer
that she sings on her way home
plucking tangors
three times I thank
this eye and this mouth
and this foot and this belly
gone to the great plains
to restore their spirit
I say thank you three times
for the winds rising in the east
the flat coast beneath the lava
the water flowing to the hermitage
if the little girl returns a bit late
we rush to ask
ou sa ou sort kosa ou la fé
where were you, what did you do
fénwar fini tombé té
night has already fallen
it’s later before sleep
that the child who went to the ravine
repeats her prayer
I remember a river
mwa na souvnans rivièr lontan