L’Allumette

Fire makes a body of the match.
A living soul with its own expression,
its own glory, its own short history.
The gas rising from it blazes;
bestowing wings, a costume, even a body:
a truly moving thing,
stirring.

It all happens so quickly!

Only the head has the power to catch fire
when it comes into contact with harsh
reality
- sounds like the crack of a starting pistol.
But, as soon as it takes hold,
the flame
- upright, swift, a sail blown like a racing yacht -
travels the length of its own wooden boom,

And hardly has it come about
it leaves
black as the hat of a parish priest.

By Francis Ponge