Open Window
Victor Hugo
Voices. Light on my eyelid. In full cry,
Bell of St Peter’s. Bathers’ merry shouts:
This way! No, that way! Nearer! Further back!
Birds twitter: Jean does too. George calls to her.
Cocks crow, a trowel scrapes a roof; horses
Pass in the lane; a rasping scythe cuts grass.
Impacts, impressions. Roofers overhead.
The harbour’s noises. Hiss of hot machines.
The gusting of a military band.
A hubbub on the quay. French voices. Thanks.
Morning. Goodbye. It must be late, because
My robin redbreast’s come up close, to sing.
The roar of distant hammers at a forge.
Clacking of water. Steamship’s puffing breath.
A fly comes in. Vast wheezing of the sea.
from: How to be a Grandfather
Translation by © Timothy Ades
