We’ll always have Paris

How to translate the perfection of an instant,

when words disenchant the very reality?

Beauty in its rawest nature

filling people’s minds with awe

Nothing performed, nothing replicated,

But for a brief moment, which leaves us

as it found us, unaware,

It is like a flash on the coast

when lost at sea on a stormy night;

It is like walking through a crowd

and catching a fragrance

that arises loving memories;

It is like hearing the final verse of a hymn

resonating through one’s whole body

A leaf on the pavement, which

vivid colours and intricate shape

echo for one instant the essence of beauty

in one’s own conception of time and space.

Roasted cabbage and its garam masala glaze,

reminding one that taste can elevate the soul

until goodness is turned into a vague memory

Feelings, emotions, truths in all their intensity

pointing beyond thesemlves, to a greater reality.

Sarraute calls them “tropismes,” others mystery

The acknowledgement of a point beyond

any human sensibility and actuality

where Beauty was encountered,

having left us to live accordingly,

trusting that “we’ll always have Paris,”

might become more than just memory:

an invitation to the liminal space

where one is met with the Ineffable

* * * * *

Ce poème questionne la perfection telle qu'elle se révèle à nous, éphémère, naturelle, intense et pointant vers une réalité plus grande, au-delà d'elle-même. La poète invite à rencontrer la beauté de l'Ineffable.