Une Lettre d’une vie fort solitaire

Stephen M. Benscoter

Me voilà à peine vivant,

Dormant sans me reposer;

Tu me manques déjà,

Même si tu ne m’as pas encore quitté.

Tu me poses toujours la même question,

À quoi je pense – cela me fait mal;

J’avais dès notre premier rencontre,

Le sentiment de t’avoir toujours connu.

                                                                                           

Pourquoi tu me quittes?

Toi, que voilà ne sachant jamais aimer;                           

Je ne rêve plus; je ne vis plus,                                         

Sans toi, tombant avec les feuilles mortes.                       

                                                                                      

Toi, t’es mon ange, mon chevalier;                                        

En ce moment précis,                                                     

tout changera pour nous;                                                

Je ne te reverrai plus, mon amour,                                   

Et tu ne comprends pas.                                                             

                                                                                     

K! oh joli K! – cyka!*  con!                                                   

C’est le dernier jour où on se verra;                           

Tu t’en rends compte?                                                    

                                 

Amuse-toi – n’y pense plus!                                          

On aurait pu connaître quelque chose                     

de différent;                                                                                                           

K, je t’adore follement…     

*CYKA (pronounced suKAH) means bitch in Russian.

Solitary Confinement

       

There I am, hardly living,

Sleeping without resting;                                                    

I miss you already,

Even though you haven’t left me yet.

 

You always ask me the same question,

What am I thinking about – that hurts me;

I’ve always had the impression since our first meeting,

That I’ve always known you.

 

Why are you leaving me?

You, never knowing how to love;

I don’t dream anymore, I’m no longer living,

Without you, falling with the autumn’s leaves.

 

You’re my angel, my knight in shining armor;

After that moment in time, everything will change for us;

I’ll never see you again, my love,

And you don’t understand what I’m saying.

 

K! oh lovely K – slut! bastard!

It’s the last time we’ll see each other;

Don’t you understand?

 

Enjoy it, don’t think about it anymore!

But we could have known something different;

I’m crazy-in-love with you…

 

Stephen M. Benscoter is in his fourth year at Temple University, studying French and Education. When Stephen is not studying, he can usually be found around Temple’s French department tutoring students or outside of Anderson Hall at Ali’s Middle Eastern. He works as a bilingual receptionist at the Philadelphia International Airport where he translates between French and English for foreign nationals arriving to customs.