Walker of dead streets

By Jacques Roubaud
Translated by Claire Nashar

To François Caradec

I am, in Paris, a walker of the dead streets

Of the streets that are no longer, of streets renamed,

Erased, done in, truncated, diminished,

Street of the Social Contract or Street Between-Two-Doors

Where have you gone Sensible Street, Alleyway of the Whippers

Street of the Red Apple, Street of the Milk Can

Alley of the Doormats, Street of the Great Howler,

Lost Street, Gated Street, Petit Four, Little Fart

Oh beautiful disappeared ones, Of The Mushroom Bed,

Alley of the Three Dead People, Street of the Three Racks,

Street Which Too Much Goes So Hard and Street of the Rottenfield

Passages! Dead-ends! Paths! Quays! Squares! Laneways

Ignored pedestrian of the indifferent crowd

I walk alone in the Street Where God Was Boiled