'Sous le Pont Mirabeau
Coule la Seine et nos amours'�
Guillaume Apollinaire

The century between us
Is unable
To wipe from memory
The bridge
And city as a fable.
So here
Another poet came
This hour.
It's me.
My voice,
Thank God,
Is younger,
So I declaim,
I preach
Of water flow under the bridge,
Of life
And its eternal hunger
Being loved
And getting rich'�
Do you recite,
Guillaume,
Or it is me
Reciting
From our common bridge
As from the stage?
With difference of age,
Your poem
Is opening my eyes,
And I am telling you
Of seeing the sunrise.
Its rays
In haste to reach
Each
Tiny corner of the dark.
You see, Guillaume,
It brought us life
Again,
It heals our pain,
While lightening every dome
A cupola,
An arch
Of Paris,
Of the bridge,
The waters of the Seine.

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