Jardin du Luxembourg
The carousel starts up, and in the shade
thrown by its canopy revolve the teams
of painted horses from a land where dreams
still hesitantly linger, soon to fade.
Some bridled mounts tow passengers in carts
but every head displays a bold expression.
A fierce red lion enters the procession.
A lone white elephant arrives, departs.
A woodland stag, from freedom lately lured,
consents to wear a saddle; by its strings
a little girl in blue has been secured.
The lion bears a little boy in white.
Its mouth, with fangs and tongue, is open wide.
The jockey’s hands are hot; he holds on tight.
A lone white elephant arrives, departs.
And lively older girls have come to ride,
for whom the age of roundabouts and swings
is almost over; those were childish things.
Their eyes are searching and dissatisfied.
A lone white elephant arrives, departs.
And on it goes; the creatures prance and sway
towards their destination. They have none.
One beast is red, one green; astride the grey,
a tiny face, its journey just begun.
Sometimes a rider’s dazzling smile comes round:
a signal from the land of breathless play
where time means nothing and where joys abound…
