What she could tell him:

I wish I were the cup

You bring to your lips

An oath binding you

Your favourite garment 

Or just your bedside book.

Some fruit you ravenously eat,

The pillow your face softly rests on,

The grass you delicately tread 

The only one in the crowd. 

The air you inhale 

The beads of your sweat 

The leather cord around your neck

The one in the cohort


What he could tell her

Sandrine Plantec


(Translated from French by Sandrine Plantec)

Sandrine spent her childhood and early adulthood in Bordeaux, France, not far from the Atlantic Ocean, a region which undoubtedly shaped her with its huge swathes of silent pine forests contrasting with the ocean's strength. She graduated 30 years ago from university as an English teacher with a taste for literature and linguistics. She lives happily in Tours with her husband and their three children. Writing poetry is one of her passions.

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