There is a place in Paris where I go
When it rains on Sundays.
It’s not open, but for me, it is,
Each time the owner prepares
For the week to come.
I have known Remi for years
– and the story of how I came to know
him, really is not important ; let us
Say we share a reluctant experience
In a southern city –
I went again this Sunday and sat
For a cold beer with a busy friend.
The first part of what comes next
Probably did not take place but
We happened to talk of how narrow sticks
Seem to break always in three pieces
Perhaps that would be why
Our lives are divided
Often in odd and unequal parts.
And although we may have had
Different things in mind
Happening in different places and times
We both knew exactly
The nature of the pain.
Picture : Aviv Itzhaky Israel 1973
Frédéric Benqué 