Atolls of the Sun

by Frederick O'Brien

Pour la sauver je saurai tout braver,

J’ai mon refrain pour quiconque me blâme,

Je n’ai qu’une âme et je veux la sauver.”

Now I have no skill in rime, but, inspired by his ready gift, I took his paper and wrote what might be called a free translation. I read it to him as follows:

Oh, how can a man for a moment’s bibacity

Let the demon take hold of his soul?

Remorse is the fruit of such wicked vivacity;

Hell follows the flowing bowl.

“Oh, how I fear that I weakly may lose it,

And, to guard it, will everything brave!