not to take the curve of things
Être mort
Quel effort pour ne pas prendre la courbe des choses
Pour ne pas épouser la forme de son ombre
L’angoisse sue aux portes de la nuit
Le vent charrie des oiseaux taciturnes
Mêlés de rires
Et l’eau se berce aux bras de ses noyés
Quel effort pour ne pas
Prendre la courbe du temps
Quand l’astre dit minuit
Et l’horloge est silence
Et l’heure est prisonnière
De son déroulement
Libre captée
Visage d’agonie
Visage spolié
Quel effort pour ne pas être mort
André Brochu
Being dead
Such effort not to take the curve of things
Not to marry the shape of one’s shadow
Anguish sweats at the doors of night
Wind carries away taciturn birds
Mixed with laughter
And the water rocks itself in the arms of its victims
Such effort not
To take the curve of time
When the star says midnight
And the clock is silence
And the hour is prisoner
Of its own unrolling
Freed captive
Face of agony
Stripped face
Such effort not to be dead
.
6 comments:
In one word....
om
I have to read this several times
I'm off to look up Andre Brochu!!
the images are dreams.
and i am so in love with:
Quel effort pour ne pas prendre la courbe des choses
Pour ne pas épouser la forme de son ombre
after such a fabulous beginning, it is so difficult to keep writing the poem - no? :-)
Dianne: Thanks for coming by and reading.
Sorlil: Actually, I don't know much about him myself, lol. He is from Quebec, though. This poem just happens to be in an anthology I've been reading....
Roxana: Yes :-) Somehow, you always know.... Those two lines are why I wanted to translate the poem ... I like "l’eau se berce aux bras de ses noyés", but those first lines are what stays with me....
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