The Yale Anthology of Twentieth-Century French Poetry

ROBERT MARTEAU

at dawn turning their orange muzzles
back toward night while at them one by one
swam stars and they fur-
rowed furrowed unbearable
lines
—marilyn hacker

Robert Marteau 1925–

poitou, france

A

poet, novelist, translator, and art critic, Marteau has written exten-

sively on Marc Chagall. He spent an extended period in Quebec, where

he became very involved in literary circles. He now lives in Paris.

Principal works: Royaumes, 1962; Travaux sur la terre, 1966; Sibylles, 1971; Ce qui

conseille crie, 1989; Liturgie, 1992; Louange, 1996; Régistre, 1999; L’Étoile dans la

vitre, 2001.

I Consent That Everything Vanishes

I consent that everything vanishes
If the fount arises which surges
In spray: joy where the current gushes
Even if no trace of us remains
After the tracks shall have passed
Even if nowhere a remnant
Remains like a furrow left
Beneath the sown meadow
Behold the field aloft
The pathway our planets trace
The coveted milk so many crumbs
Which no hand gathers up there.
—john montague