Georges Braque

The bird takes wing,

it throws off the clouds like a useless veil;

it has never feared light;

enclosed in its flight,

it has never had a shadow.

All the forests' leaves (the husks

of harvests shattered by the sun) say yes;

the only word they know is yes;

it's every question, every reply,

and the dew flows deep inside that yes.

A quick-eyed man describes the heaven of love.

He collects its wonders,

such as leaves in a forest,

birds in their wings

and people in their sleep.