Paris - France

Paul Eluard (1895-1952)

‘The arc of your eyes…’ (La courbe de tes yeux)

The arc of your eyes makes the rounds of my heart

A circuit of dance and gentleness,

Halo of time, cradle nocturnal and sure,

And if I no longer know all I have lived

It is because your eyes have not always seen me.

Leaves of daylight and moss of dew,

Reeds of the wind, perfumed smiles,

Wings covering the world with light

Boats charged with the sky and the sea,

Hunters of sounds and fountains of colour,

Scents hatched from a clutch of dawns

That rest forever on the straw of stars,

As daylight depends on innocence

The whole world depends on your pure eyes

And all my blood flows through their gaze.