THE RETURN OF JEAN FOLLAIN ~

 

Deep in the Back

Deep in the back

of the vast attic

where rats feed on poisoned wheat

a ray of sun lights up

the enormous pile of gazettes

out of which comes the musty odor

of a faded century

in the sky soon every light will go out.

Something

Called stone eater

a tiny worm consumes the slate

in which it hides

minute by minute time is

tightening its screws

shaken jewelry makes its sound

ants reside in a ruin

something

is always happening.

Edge of the Hearth

The outbuildings with no real use

are left to the rains

a peasant woman

has an edge of the black hearth

for a seat

the evening turns

in swirls of her breath

the wind in the hollow tree

why beings and things

she thinks

and not nothing.

Village Square

In the village square

at the foot of the church

one of the drinkers puts on

the kepi of his soldier friend as a joke

above them the hour strikes so loudly

they flinch

a horse that is unhitched

when it stamps the soft earth

radiates an abundant calm

they say to get there

leave before nightfall.

Quiet

There is that moment

of hearing water flowing underground

across the clay.

Quiet

the man says to the boy

holding his watch up to his ear

satisfied it ticks so well

in the middle of a tainted century.

A Night

Organ function to breaking down

the hand stays pressed

to the craggy wall

then the body with neither hearth nor home

continues on through a cold night

and starts forging words

to speak in the coming daylight.

___________________________

Earthly

translated  by Andrew Seguin

The Song Cave, 2025

JEAN FOLLAIN ~

Day on Fire

The door shined in fiery daylight

but the braids of the women there

held still

one of them leaned over the waters on the cauldron

and on a piece of porcelain

a painted bird had worn itself out with singing.

The messenger was seen to come in

with a letter and a golden loaf in his hands

he spoke

then it was dead silence

and the whole garden gave up its scent.

Landscape with Two Laborers

The countyside was calm

a girl was washing her unblemished leg

and the hours

etched themselves into the cloth they faded

attacking the damask flowers.

The pages of a schoolbook

had been carried off by the wind

up above the eglantines

and down the length of the path

to ditches filled with clever beasts

to embankments covered in those herbs

favored for soothing teas

two laborers took their time

telling each other

the secrets of working with wood.

The Notice

The child pushing along the ring of a barrel

as his makeshift hoop

runs alone and shouts

but to the one who has just spelled out

beneath the N and the eagle of Empire

the draft notice

the old man says simply

in the blazing sun

while drinking a foamy pear cider:

"the next century will be worse"

though lovers go by singing.

Edge of the Hearth

The outbuildings with no real use

are left to the rains

a peasant woman

has an edge of the black hearth

for a seat

the evening turns

in swirls of her breath

the wind in the hollow tree

why beings and things

she thinks

and not nothing

_______________________________

Jean Follain

Earthly

The Song Cave 2025

translated by Andrew Seguin

JEAN FOLLAIN ~

The Secret



Where are you lying

secret of the world

with so strong an odor?

Sometimes a gentle workman

in the feverish town

falls from a scaffolding

and the wind always smells of lilac;

a tenacious misfortune

lodges in the loveliest bodies

hands tighten in the evening

an animal sleeps

within walls rough by men

peace forever decays

and war no longer

has an age.








Death



From the bones of animals

the factory had made these buttons

which fastened

a bodice over the bust

of a gorgeous working-girl

when she fell

one of the buttons came off in the night

and the water of the gutters took it

and laid it down

in a private garden

with a crumbling plaster statue

Pomona

naked and laughing








Life



A child is born

in a vast landscape

half a century later

he is simply a dead soldier

and that was the man

whom one saw appear

and set down on the ground a whole

heavy sack of apples

two or three of which rolled

a sound among the sounds of a world

where the bird sang

on the stone of the door-sill.





————————————

JEAN FOLLAIN
W.S. MERWIN (translator)
Transparence of the World
Atheneum 1969





what a book to discover back then, as now!

JEAN FOLLAIN ~

HABIT

At the edge of the table

the man who is toying with

the magnet and filings

no longer hears the ocean

beating the rocks.

From the ceiling

beans are hung to dry

the whitewashed walls

let insects come and go

people passing each other by

would like to get back

in the habit of loving.

SEPARATION

In a shed in the old garden

the separation takes place

amid the rustling of leaves

you have to go far away

to another country

to recover this moment of farewell

leaning on the quiet tree

in the hour of lamplight

just as a child is sent

with no one to confide in

looking for milk in the night.

IN THIS LIGHT

Clearly in this broad daylight you can see

the empty bowl on the table

the background dappled

with the play of shadows

among the passersby

one picks up a pin

under a sky that darkens

though no lights come on.

A lithe body

is filled with silence.

Images from memory

will return with evening.

FARMERS

Some farmers keep on

watching the clouds

looking for clues

some prefer

an easy eloquence

to silence

at the corner

made by a hedge

of many plants

the transparent evenings

wear thin with repetition

on a stage of trestles

someone is making a speech

to others seated at tables

in the open barn

on furrows that shine

to the very ends of the earth.

SURROUNDED WOMAN

People are kept in suspense

by these commotions about a woman

who remains beautiful

as she bends her body

her hair sweeping the red ground

in the last light of festivities.

All those who watch

have memories

but they no longer see

night approaching.

FACE THE ANIMAL

It's not always easy

to face the animal

even if it looks at you

without fear or hate

it does so fixedly

and seems to disdain

the subtle secret it carries

it seems better to feel

the obviousness of the world

that noisily day and night

drills and damages

the silence of the soul.

__________________ 

translated by Heather McHugh

D'Après Tout

JEAN FOLLAIN

(Princeton 1981)

Jean Follain (29 August 1903 – 10 March 1971) was a French author, poet and corporate lawyer.  A car accident took his life.