Selected poems from Hearts, Books of Love by Hélène Dorion Translated by Susanna Lang

from Cœurs, livres d’amour, by Hélène Dorion

This morning the wind embraces the house, holds
the trees close as your silence holds me.
The expanse is erased, leaving nothing but my body
my fine veins, my hands dispersed

		in the memory of your face, − desire
		is love of the light.

Snow has shaken off the last fogs,
brightened the garden. I enter
the interior of the poem
that thinks it will travel far away
to reach what only
time can gather in.

You revive each word as if it had drowned.
You look beyond the shore, believe
you hear eternity breathing.

Hearts, Books of Love, translated by Susanna Lang


Ce matin le vent enlace la maison, étreint
les arbres comme m’étreint ton silence.
L’étendue s’efface, ne laisse que mon corps
mes veines fines, mes mains éparpillées

		dans le souvenir de ton visage, − le désir
		est amour de la lumière.

La neige a secoué les dernières brumes
éclairci le jardin. J’entre
à l’intérieur du poème
qui croira faire un long voyage
pour rejoindre ce que seul
le temps sait accueillir.

Tu ravives chaque mot comme un naufragé.
Tu regardes par-delà la rive, entends souffler
crois-tu, l’éternité.

——————————————————————————————————————————————




You give the immense name, light
to this form the sky holds
by its fingertips, you uncolor the night
that howls on the hilltop, that stretches
all the way to your window.

This morning, snow no longer lays waste to the road
frost crackles on stone, the land’s
soul traces the promised body
that is cradled in your eyes.

You give the immense name, light
to the silence that slips over the grass
ocher, red kindle the nape

and the world turns into dust
of blues that assail the dawn
to reveal the sea and all of life
falls like a rain of beauty, heart
on the blank canvas.





Tu donnes le nom très vaste de lumière
à cette forme que prend le ciel
du bout des doigts, tu décolores la nuit
qui aboie sur la colline, s’étire
jusqu’à ta fenêtre.

Ce matin la neige a cessé de ravager la route
le givre sur la pierre s’est rompu, l’âme
du paysage trace le corps promis
que berce ton regard.

Tu donnes le nom très vaste de lumière
au silence qui glisse sur les herbes
l’ocre, le rouge embrasent la nuque

		et le monde se transforme en poussière
		de bleus qui assaillent l’aube
		pour révéler la mer et toute la vie
		tombe comme pluie de beauté, cœur
		sur la toile de blanc.



——————————————————————————————————————————————




Where does this music come from, words too faint
to be heard, and where does this love come from
		that eludes words, eludes
		what you know of a mouth
		or vast theories
		regarding trees and years?

I gather the figures that night invents
in my ear, the seashell
lets memory flower
and what I thought was lost
finishes the voyage.






D’où vient cette musique dont on n’entend
pas les paroles, et d’où cet amour
		qui fuit les mots, fuit
		ce que tu sais d’une bouche
		ou des vastes théories
		sur les arbres et les ans?

Je recueille les figures qu’invente la nuit
à mon oreille, le coquillage
laisse fleurir la mémoire
et ce que j’imaginais perdu
accomplit le voyage.



——————————————————————————————————————————————




Above the abyss, I look
at the château on which you blow
like a memory barely offered, love’s
syllables burned one by one
pile up on the ground
with nowhere to go.

		You have known so many other paths
		so many other eyes to look into.

Night falls in our mouths, our hands
turn long chains that you wish were silent.





Du haut de l’abîme, je regarde
le château sur lequel tu souffles
comme une mémoire à peine offerte, les syllabes
de l’amour brûlées une à une
s’ajoutent au sol
sans destination.

		Tu as connu tant d’autres chemins
		tant d’autres yeux pour poser les tiens.

La nuit descend dans nos bouches, nos mains
agitent de longues chaînes que tu voudrais silencieuses.






——————————————————————————————————————————————


Heart: where your body lands
after the waves and the cold

heart: where our silences tremble
among the gaps we have patiently collected
and learn to love
after years, heart:

that does not attach itself or retrace
the steps of the wound
covers it with sand, strikes the bone, violently
reveals the brilliance it sought

		leans over the rose

		can’t explain anything.




Cœur : où se pose ton corps
après la houle et le froid

cœur : où basculent nos silences
parmi les brèches patiemment recueillies
que l’on apprend à aimer
au bout des ans, cœur :

qui ne s’attache ni retourne
sur les pas de la blessure
l’ensable, heurte l’os, violemment
révèle l’éclat qu’il cherchait

		se penche sur la rose
		
		ne peut rien expliquer

Hélène Dorion is a poet, novelist, and essayist who has published nearly forty works and received numerous literary awards, including the Prix Athanase-David − the highest distinction in literature awarded by the Government of Québec − and the Grand Prix de Poésie of the Académie française for her complete poetic work. With her poetry collection Mes forêts, she became the first living woman and the first Québécoise to have a work included in the French Baccalaureate curriculum. She was recently named Chevalière of the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres of the French Republic and Compagne of the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres of Québec, and her name now appears in major French dictionaries, Le Larousse and Le Robert. Hélène Dorion co-wrote with Marie-Claire Blais the libretto for the opera Yourcenar – Une île de passions, created and presented literary concerts with the orchestras Les Violons du Roy and I Musici, collaborated on more than twenty artist’s books, and exhibited her photography. Her work has been translated and published in over fifteen languages. Her novel Pas même le bruit d’un fleuve, first published by Alto, was reissued in 2024 by Gallimard in the Folio collection. In 2025, the same publisher released her novel Jours de sable in Folio, as well as Un visage appuyé contre le monde et autres poèmes in the “Poésie collection”, bringing together four of her poetry collections.

Susanna Lang divides her time between Chicago and Uzès, France. She was the 2024 winner of the Marvin Bell Memorial Poetry Prize from December Magazine, and her most recent chapbook, Like This, was released in 2023 (Unsolicited Books), along with her translations of poems by Souad Labbize, My Soul Has No Corners (Diálogos Books). A new collection of Souad Labbize’s poems, Unfasten the Silk of Your Silence, was released in 2025 by Éditions des Lisières. Her fourth full-length collection of poems, This Spangled Dark, is forthcoming from Cornerstone Press. Her poems, translations and reviews have appeared in such publications as The Common, Asymptote, Tupelo Quarterly, American Life in Poetry, Rhino Reviews, Mayday and The Slowdown. Her translations of poetry by Yves Bonnefoy include Words in Stone and The Origin of Language, and she is now working with Hélène Dorion and Christine Guinard on new translations. 

Credit for the French text goes to Coeurs, comme livres d’amour, Montréal, Éditions de L’Hexagone, 2012; Paris, Éditions Doucey, 2023.

19 May 2026