SUMMER NIGHT
I
It seems to me, this evening,
That the starry sky, spread wide,
Draws near to us; and that the night,
Behind so many sparks, is less obscure.
And the leaves blaze too under the leaves,
The green, the orange of ripe fruit, intensified,
Lamp of an angel near; a shudder
Of hidden light seizes the universal tree.
It seems to me, this evening,
That we entered the garden, of which the angel
Has closed the gates without return.
from a sequence by Yves Bonnefoy
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