On my school notebooks
On my desk and on the trees
On sand and snow
I write your name
On all the pages I have read
On all the blank pages
On stone, blood, paper, ashes
I write your name
On gilded images
On warrior’s weapons
On the crown of kings
I write your name
On the jungle and on the desert
On nests and brooms
On my childhood’s echo
I write your name
On the wonders of the night
On the white bread of days
On the engaged-to-be-married seasons
I write your name
On all my sky blue garments
On the sun’s moldy pond
On the lake of the living moon
I write your name
On the fields in the horizon
On the birds’ wings
On the mill of shadows
I write your name
On every bite of dawn
On the sea and on the boats
On the demented mountain
I write your name
On the clouds’ froth
On the tempest’s sweat
On the rain—thick and bland—
I write your name
On sparkling forms
On the colors’ bells
On the veracity of existence
I write your name
On the awakened paths
On the unfolding routes
On the overflowing squares
I write your name
On the lamp which is lit
On the lamp which is put out
On the reunion of my homes
I write your name
On the fruit cut in half
Of the mirror and my room
On the empty shell of my bed
I write your name
On my dog—greedy and tender—
On his ears raised up high
On his clumsy paw
I write your name
On the springboard of my door
On all familiar objects
On the blessed fire’s stream
I write your name
On every piece of given flesh
On the forehead of my friends
On every stretched hand
I write your name
On the window of surprises
On lips harboring tenderness
Way below the silence
I write your name
On my demolished hiding places
On my collapsed lighthouses
On the walls of my boredom
I write your name
On absence without desire
On naked solitude
On the footsteps of death
I write your name
On the recovery from illness
On the disappearance of danger
On hope devoid of memories
I write your name
And by the power of speech
I start my life again
I was born to know you
And to give you your name
Freedom
Paul Éluard, Poésies et vérités, 1942
Translation from the French: Youlika Masry (© 2014)