Déjeuner Du Matin Poème

In French this week we were given the rather tricky task of ‘adding to’ a pre-existing poem. The one our teacher chose is called ‘Déjeuner du matin’, by Jacques Prévert. You can read the original here, but the version below is my own version of it with a few extra flourishes and details thrown in. The added parts are in the ‘[ ]’.
Déjeuner du matin [Dans la lumière froide d’aube]
Il a mis le café [au lait] dans la tasse [de porcelaine blanche]
Il a mis le lait [crémeux] dans la tasse de café [de dégagement de vapeur d’eau]
Il a mis le [grande cuillère de] sucre [blanc]
Avec la petite cuiller [de cuivre] il a tourné [lentement et silencieusement]
Il a bu le café [au lait]
Il a reposé la tasse [sur la table propre, pointillée avec miettes]
Sans me parler [du tout]
Sans me regarder [de ses yeux vides]
Il a allumé une cigarette [et prises cela entre ses doigts minces]
Il s’est levé [et, étendant une main]
Il a mis son chapeau [noir de velours] sur sa tête [penchée]
Il a mis son manteau de pluie [en lambeaux]
Parce qu’il pleuvait [au milieu de décembre]
Et il est parti sous la pluie [d’aspergement]
Sans une parole
Sans me regarder [dans ma direction]
Et moi, j’ai pris ma tête dans ma main [tremblantes]
Et j’ai pleuré, [silencieusement pour mon coeur brisé].
I hope you enjoyed my own little take on this poem!
À bientôt 🙂

Water Child

Moonlight trickles Underwater Sea Bubbles
Across the ocean
A ghostly, silent invader
Of the blackest abyss

Frightening creatures
Who live their lives
In the dark
And know nothing more

Rainbow fish
Who glide through the water
Colours transformed to grey
By the nighttime glow

Monolithic mammals
Who live life slowly
And are the gentlest mothers
Spouting water into the sea breeze air

Jagged teeth the size of your hand
That rip and shred and kill
And cold…. dead…. eyes
That stare without emotion into the dark

And the shark’s gentle cousin
Who soars through the water
And leaps through the air
Free from troubles

Unlike most of us

Water is lifeblood
It flows and ebbs
It heals
It changes

Like most of us

The girl watching, imagining
Wishes for more
But she knows that a life in the water is not for her.
In a way, she’s happy.

She will never soar through the air
Or flow like the water
Or burn like fire
Or become one with nature.

But she doesn’t care.
She has her own life to live.
And that’s good enough for her.