The trilingual title may be the best thing here—

Oh, our poor poets – Oh, nos pauvres poètes – Ay, nuestros pobres poetas

The rest follows, first in English et puis en français y en español.

Perhaps this is also the place to note something that Emily Dickinson taught me (along with an appreciation for slant or near rhymes). When a poem, or a first line, appears somewhere in your mind, don’t worry if it’s going to be good, bad or earth-shattering; let it out, set it down, and then get to the work of trying to successfully realize whatever, large or small, it may have to offer.

In later years you may take a liking or disliking to certain of these creations, and so too others may decide, at some time or another, that certain of these poems speak to them (or embarrass their dogs).

As T.S. Eliot once put it: “For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.”

Oh, our poor poets

Oh, our poor poets

They cannot help but learn

Nothing they touch or read or feel

Nothing they overhear

That does not find itself in the petri dish

And the resulting bacteria, fungi, mosses

Call themselves poems

Easier to ignore

Than suppress.

Français

Oh, nos pauvres poètes

Oh, nos pauvres poètes

Ils ne peuvent s’empêcher d’apprendre

Tout ce qu’ils touchent, lisent ou ressentent

Tout ce qu’ils entendent par hasard

Finit dans la boîte de Pétri

Et les bactéries, champignons et mousses qui s’y développent

Ils s’appellent eux-mêmes des poèmes

Plus faciles à ignorer qu’à réprimer.

Español

Ay, nuestros pobres poetas

Ay, nuestros pobres poetas

No pueden evitar aprender

Nada que toquen, lean o sientan

Nada que oyen por casualidad

que no se encuentre en la placa de Petri

Y las bacterias que se crían allí

se llaman a sí mismos poemas

más fáciles de ignorar que suprimir.

— Poem(s) and photograph by William Eaton.