by Paul Colinet
Translation: Rochelle Ratner

The soup with jonquils that's eaten at the fairies' house, a dull little spoon gave me the recipe.
One evening it lured me under its raincoat. In the dark, against its heart, a little light was alive. A weak little reddish flame, surrounded by a blue
halo.
It’s her—I've understood it ever since—she's who hummed me the recipe.
Alas! My gasp was so strong that she died from it.

from The Lamp’s Tales
Now available