Pour Billy Collins
There is something in the American soul that rises with the kites that fly!
Something that lives when the wind roars, raising the kite that rises above the roofs, the tops of the trees and the fascinated heads!
And yet – there is not something in the American soul that adores the kite failing to take flight.
The one whose tail shreds on the TV antenna.
The one that rises madly at dawn then plummets vertically at your feet in a heap.
American melancholy. Translated from English (United States) by Claude Seban, Ed. Philip Roy. 128 p., €17