CHIMES FOR THE DEAD

(Campanades a morts)

I

Chimes for the dead

cry out for the war

of three sons who have lost

the three black bells.

And the people gather together

as the cry approaches;

three more sorrows now

to our memory.

Chimes for the dead

for the three mouths forever shut;

Woe unto that minstrel

who might forget the three notes!

Who took away the breath

from those young bodies

with no other treasure

than the cause of those who weep?

Murderers of reasons and lives,

may you never have rest throughout the rest of your days

and that in death may our memories persecute you.

Chimes for the dead

cry out for the war

of three sons who have lost

the three black bells.

II

Open my belly

for their eternal rest,

From my gardens

Bring the best flowers.

For these men

Dig deeply into me

and on my body

engrave their names.

Let no wind

disturb the sleep

of those who have died

without bowing their head in humiliation.

III

Seventeen years old only,

and you so old;

jealous of the light in their eyes

you wanted to close their eyelids

but you will not be able to, because we all keep this light

and our eyes will be lightning for your nights.

Seventeen years old only,

and you so old;

jealous of such a young beauty

you wanted to tear up their limbs

but you will not be able to, because we remember their body

and every night we will learn to love it.

Seventeen years old only,

and you so old;

powerless to the love he had

you have given him death to be his companion

but you will not be able to, because for everything that he loved

our body will always remain in spring.

Seventeen years old only,

and you so old;

jealous of the light in their eyes

you wanted to close their eyelids

but you will not be able to, because we all keep this light

and our eyes will be lightning for your nights.

IV

Misery turned into a poet

and wrote in the fields

in the form of trenches

and men marched towards them.

Each one was a word

of the victorious poem.