Zachary Richard  

Migration

When the North wind
Calls with its big voice
To tell me to leave
For the South.
When the tendencies
Of my beautiful wings,
Hear the words of the big voice,
They await deliverance from winter.

Trapped by the white
Cold of the snow
My wings weak
My eyes that can still see
All that I know, all those that I know
Leave, leaving me alone.

When the great winds
Of the big sea
Hit with their great fists of water
When the sky and and the earth fight over winter
When the wings of old geese
Break in the storm,
It is the same thing
If they break in the North or the South.

Drowned, my head hidden
Under a cover of water
Without feeling to feel
All the delirium
To come with my lover
Flying in the sky.

When the vengeance
Of a beautiful lie
Shows itself on the side of your bed.
Without a lover, without hope
When the fatigue of the long voyage
Marks its stories across your face.
A dream of flying will return
Calling me to migrate.

 

Zachary Richard, Les Editions du Marais Bouleur