The Voice -- Robert Desnos

(Poem #103)The Voice A voice, a voice from so far away It no longer makes the ears tingle.  A voice like a muffled drum Still reaches us clearly. Though it seems to come from the grave It speaks only of summer and spring. It floods the body with joy. It lights the lips with a smile. I listen. It is simply a human voice Which passes over the noise of life and its battles The crash of thunder and the murmur of gossip. And you? Don't you hear it? It says "The pain will soon be over" It says "The happy season is near." Don't you hear it? -- Robert Desnos

(Ed Hirsch) I hear in this poem Desnos's characteristic clairvoyance, his affirmative presence, his radiant desire to transfigure pain and prophesy happiness seemingly from beyond the grave. But I also hear the profound
anxiety of that last twice-repeated question, "Don't you hear it?" The writer who wrote this knew that he was
going to die. The poem was included in Contrée, the last book that Desnos published before he was arrested
by the Gestapo.