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tr. from Ezra Pound's 'In a Station of the Metro'

It is Paris again

It is Paris again

where we spent that

week in the knees,

learning love's a-b-c's

and thinking we'd still be

unharmed.

It is still here,

that grey asphalt,

still here, that crease

felt by love's deportees, who

once battle-ready, are now

unarmed.

There is still that

half-promise of the ferry

lights, still the breeze

comes with half-guarantees

of charm, of leaving you

uncharmed.

(after Leela Gandhi)