D'am c'heneiled du
TO MY BLACK COMPANIONS
Ah! To return each
time to a house empty and cold,
To a house whose
door is locked and windows closed,
A house in which no
one ever awaits you,
Not a Christian, or
father, or mother, or relative, or friend, or anyone,
Where you hear no
footstep in the courtyard save your own,
No response to your
voice. There's no more sound from Kubele 9
Yet, during the day,
as quick as your foot,
Are your mute
companions. There are your two good dogs,
Rivalry between them
as to who will have the better position,
Who will dry, with
his tongue, the tears in your eyes,
Who will eat from
your hand, who will sleep against your feet,
To let you know that
they love you completely.
They will read your
look. They will divine your thought.
They converse during
the day. They keep guard at night.
Faithful hearts,
humble hearts,
That tremble with a
soft word, love in their regard.
How precious you are
to me. Ah! A benediction to the Father
To have created for
humans such fine companions.
September 1970
9 Kubele, the mare.
