Jean Cocteau (5 July 1889 – 11 October 1963 / Maisons-Laffitte, Yvelines)
Jean Cocteau’s poem for Welles
Orson Welles is a poet
through his violence
and through his grace.
Never does he tumble
from the tightrope
on which he crosses cities
and their dramas.
He is a poet too in the
Loyal friendship he bears
our dreams and our struggles.
Others will know better than I
how to praise his work.
I content myself with sending him
my fraternal greeting.
His handshake is as firm as he is
and I think of it each time my work
obliges me to leap over an obstacle.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.