I straightened my back
To rest
And my gaze fell
On something, there,
On the other side of the valley:
Tiny things fluttering
In the wind.
Suspended on a metal line,
Little things, light, light,
Tiny white and pink things:
A small washload drying,
A washload of baby diapers…
–And something passes
Through my trembling heart.
–And now, bent again
Over my work,
My eyelashes are moist…
I, the old maid!…

The Day of Saint Erwan’s Pardon 1962.

Translated by Lenora Timm

This poem in breton

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