Over jetlag, oof! This morning I’m working on a translation of Philippe Jaccott’s poem, ‘L’ignorant,’ a title I have provisionally translated as ‘The Know Nothing.’ I did a quick draft yesterday, working as I often do, on/in bed, looking out the window at the pigeons living on the side wall of the church across the street (What happened to the crows? I’m wondering). Today I have moved back to the couch in the study/guest room, where I have at last finished putting my poetry books back on the shelves that were painted this past autumn, my desk opposite, the church obliquely now to my right, filled bookshelves to my left. Bliss.

It’s a wonderful poem and I’ve just found a commentary on it on Jean-Michel Maulpoix’s website, which I must explore further. Now back to the translation, then some tweaking of my own manuscript, Apple Thieves, which I must let go of, soon.

Me, the Know Nothing.

Beverley Bie Brahic