The Yale Anthology of Twentieth-Century French Poetry

JACQUES PRÉVERT

Barbara
And you ran towards him in the rain
Steaming wet full of joy radiant
And you threw yourself into his arms
Barbara remember that
Don’t be cross if I’m direct
I can’t be bothered with niceties
When I love someone
Even if I’ve seen them only once
I’m never formal with people in love
Even if I’ve not met them before
Barbara remember
Don’t forget
That wet wise happy rain
On your happy face
On that happy town
That rain on the sea
On the munitions dump
On the Ushant boat
Oh Barbara
What a bloody waste war is
Where the hell are you now
Under this downpour of iron
Of fire of steel of blood
And the man who hugged you in his arms
Full of love
Did he die disappear or is he still alive
Oh Barbara
It rains and rains on Brest
As it rained before
But it’s not the same any more and all is ruined
It’s the desolate terrible rain of bereavement
No longer even the same thunder
Of iron of steel of blood
Just simply clouds going under
Like dead dogs disappearing
Floating downstream out of Brest
To rot far far away from Brest
Of which there’s left
Nothing. —martin sorrell