Even if I am not short of friends,

Even if life seems to be so sweet,
Discontent, it presses me with questions.
What’s the use of a cheerless life?

Even if the body has sweet companionship,

Even if the soul seems to have found partner,
I still emerge from struggle exhausted.
Wondering what’s the use of a dead life?

So even in the most precious of life’s enjoyments,

My breath abandons me in its loneliness.
So what if laughter flourishes on my lips?
My existence is crying for this ill-fated life.

First written in 1930 and translated from the French by George Kanarakis in ‘Translation Through Exercises & Passages’, 1971.