The Prompt: Do a translation. I’m pretty sure the intent was one that sounds like the original, not necessarily one that is true to the original meaning, but I stretched my translation muscles and did a true translation of a poem by African (Senegalese) poet Leopold Sedar Senghor, one of my favorite poets. I took some poetic license of my own, so please forgive any inaccuracies.
Gouttelettes de lait frais,
Clartés fugitives le long des fils télégraphiques,
Le long des longs jours monotones et gris !
Où vous en allez-vous ?
À quels paradis ? À quels paradis ?
Clartés premières de mon enfance
Droplets of fresh milk,
Fleeting sparks along the length of telegraph lines,
The length of long, grey, monotonous days!
Where do you go?
To what paradise? To what paradise?
First sparks of my childhood
Never found again…