Odysseus to a Siren

Tu vois, je n'ai pas oublié
La chanson que tu me chantais


You see, I have not forgotten
The song you sang to me:
The one about the green mirror of the sea
And the lie of the blue sky.

I think of you often,
lying in your white flower-starred meadow,
how come you to know the crimsoned pain of love
or the molten gold of funeral pyres?

But then I remember, beside you,
bleached bones and sun-charred rags.
Rotting misery: sailors who never
could move on.

Did they give you
the song of their lives then?
In exchange for a few purled notes,
a brief promise of musical immortality?

Ah. I have ruffled your feathers.
I often forget that you are both bird and woman,
with far-seeing eyes and the gift of song,
and a face I might have known.

But as always, I am gently bewildered
by the colours of the world
that seem all too false
Now that I've heard you sing.

You see, I cannot forget
The song you sang to me:
The one about the green mirror of the sea
And the lie of the blue sky.

No I cannot forget.