Translated by A. Z. Foreman - The Astounded Pen lyrics

Like risen exclamation points The young trees stand. Opposite, the old women on their benches Sit sated like full stops Following a long sentence Heavy with meaning, And pigeons put a parenthesis Around a silver, melting Bit of sky. Alone, I am Job all to myself, In the shadow of the wheel; But often my few brief words End with a dappled question That drops From the astounded pen.