On my pupil's exercise books
On my writing desk and the trees
On the sand of snow
I write your name

On all the read pages
On all the blank pages
Stone blood paper or ash
I write your name

On the golden images
On the weapons of the warriors
On the crown of kings
I write your name

On the jungle and the desert
On the nests on the brooms
On the echo of my childhood
I write your name

On the marvels of the nights
On the white bread of the days
On the seasons of betrothal
I write your name

On all my rags of azure
On the pond mouldy sun
On the lake the living moon
I write your name

On the fields on the horizon
On the wings of the birds
And on the mill of the shadows
I write your name

On every outburst of dawn
On the sea on the boats
On the mad mountain
I write your name

On the foam of clouds
On the sweat of the thunderstorm
On the thick and dull rain
I write your name

On the twinkling forms
On the bells of the colors
On the physical truth
I write your name

On the alert paths
On the unfolding roads
On the places which overflow
I write your name

On the lamp which turns on
On the lamp which goes out
On my gathered reasons
I write your name

On the fruit cut in two
Of the mirror and of my room
On my bed empty shell
I write your name

On my greedy and soft dog
On his raised ears
On his awkward leg
I write your name

On the springboard of my door
On the familiar objects
On the tide of the blessed light
I write your name

On any given flesh
On the forehead of my friends
On every hand that reaches out
I write your name

On the window of the surprises
On the fond lips
Indeed over the silence
I write your name

On my ruined refuges
On my collapsed lighthouses
On the walls of my boredom
I write your name

On the absence without desire
On the naked solitude
On the steps of death
I write your name

On the health that returned
On the risk that vanished
On the hope without remembering
I write your name

And by the power of a word
I begin my life again
I was born to know you
To call you by name

Freedom

Paul Éluard 1942