A bottle, in the sea, has fallen
Message of mystery
Creased weary paper
Washed by the swell, swollen
Wandering along the water
Wrenched by the waves, misery

Whilst an impetuous wind
Cradles the vial with its washed out blue cap
The bottle reaches its destination
The translucent sand welcomes it with a slap
Washed ashore
It would be hard to read what it once clearly bore…

On the beach, a blond maiden bothers to pick up, sunbathing
The drenched draft with its strewed words
And as she starts reading
Gone is her grinning.
Letters speak to her in a death rattle
Her father blacked out during the battle
Forever. On the creased weary paper the writer
Traced: ‘’Don’t worry, I love you, my darling’’
Her tears now erasing completely so much strength and energy
Gathered to retrace the story …

Of the blond-haired maid
Only a piece of paper remains, it is said.
By the tumultuous tide
Hope reached the other side…

Translated on May,9, 2014

1st place, Jacques Prévert Jeux Floraux du Béarn (French poetry contest), 2008