Albert Cohen - Book of My Mother (1954)

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She answers no more, the one who used to answer always.

Albert Cohen
Yes, the words, the land of my birth, they console me and compensate, but they would not bring me my mother back.

Albert Cohen
I say to myself that her small hands are no more worm, and that I would never again carry them soft to my front.

Albert Cohen
My true single consolation is that she is not present to see me in my agony of her death.

Albert Cohen
Brothers, my human brothers, force me to believe in eternal life.

Albert Cohen
Human friends, friends in hardship and in life, this is our pure love, love of mother and son.

Albert Cohen
She does not talk anymore, the one who used to talk so pleasantly.

Albert Cohen
Never again I would know her slow kisses which are hardly felt. Never again the ringing mourning bells, songs of the dead that we loved.

Albert Cohen
Go away, image of my living mother, full of life, as I saw her in France for the last time. Go away! My mother's ghost.

Albert Cohen
In my solitude I sing to myself a sweet lullaby, as sweet as my mother used to sing to me.

Albert Cohen
Only with her I was not alone, now I am alone with everyone.

Albert Cohen
Alone dwells every man and everyone mocks everyone else, and a deserted island is our pain.

Albert Cohen
In my sleep, which is the song of the tombs, I have just seen her again, as beautiful as in her youth.

Albert Cohen