Cascade | Robert Desnos, 1900-1945

René Magritte, The Kiss, 1938

What sort of arrow split the sky and this rock?
It quivers, spreading like a peacock’s fan
Like the mist around the shaft and knotless feathers
Of a comet come to next at midnight.

How blood surges from the gaping wound,
Lips already silencing the murmur and the cry,
One solemn finger holds back time, confusing
The witness of the eyes where the deed is written.

Silence? We still know the passwords.
Lost sentinels far from the watch fires
We smell the odor of honeysuckle and surf
Rising the dark shadows.

Distance, let dawn leap the void at last,
And a single beam of light make a rainbow on the water
Its quiver full of reeds,
Sign of the return of archers and patriotic songs.

Cascade, Robert Desnos, 1900-1945


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