SECRET
La cloche vide
Les oiseaux morts
Dans la maison où tout s'endort
Neuf heures
La terre se tient immobile
On dirait que quelqu'un soupire
Les arbres ont l'air de sourire
L'eau tremble au bout de chaque feuille
Un nuage traverse la nuit
Devant la porte un home chante
La fenêtre s'ouvre sans bruit
-------
SECRET
Hollow bell
Dead birds
In a house where everything's asleep
Nine o'clock
The earth holds still
One says that someone's sighing
Trees appear to be smiling
Water flickers at every leaf-tip
A cloud drifts into night
Outside our door a man is singing
A silent window opens
NOMADE
La porte qui ne s'ouvre pas
La main qui passe
Au loin un verre qui se casse
La lampe fume
Les étincelles qui s'allument
Le ciel est plus noir
Sur les toits
Quelques animaux
Sans leur ombre
Un regard
Un tache sombre
La maison où l'on n'entre pas
-----
NOMAD
A door that never opens
A hand passing by
A far away shattering of glass
A smoky lamp
Sparks lighting up
The sky grows dark
Over the rooftops
Some animals stand about
Shadeless
A glance
A somber spot
An unapproachable house
9 comments:
I very much enjoyed how you resolved
"L'eau tremble au bout de chaque feuille" - translated as:
Water flickers at every leaf-tip ....
Thanks, Irina
I picked the easier Reverdy pieces: his prose poems are a little more challenging.
Maybe next time I'm in a translating mood.
that line also "got" my me. and I want to "play" with your/his lines:
"The earth holds still
One says that someone's sighing
Trees appear to be smiling
Water flickers at every leaf-tip
A cloud drifts into night"
but,
by the time that I got through
you'd have:
The earth holds clouds
drift
at the end of each leaf
droplets reflect
or some such "make it my own" attitude.
good "stuff"... yours
Ed,
you've got the surrealistic sense of the original: I translated too literally, too afraid to make those more interesting associations between clouds and droplets that reflect them
A poem within a poem! Reverdy would have loved it.
yeah... just remember what Ezra Pound said
you can "pick" that up over there on Tom Clark's blog!
you might also pick up on Jerry Rothenberg' nod (today) towards John..
however
what ever you do pass on that very crowded avant symposium thing:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/beblank/sets/72157624710391230/show/with/4885176291/
I just wrote down that little bit that I "filched" from your
Reverdy translation...
when I get if I do my new Muse
will "stick her in" somehow
and
'go for the gold' en Bough!
Ed,
"when I get if I do my new Muse
will "stick her in" somehow
and
'go for the gold' en Bough!"—
another gem!
Conrad..
I just make this shit up
as
I go along
my merry way
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7rgmtbOXHo
DIG IT!
this is the sound/music/rhythm & blues DO WOP/poetry/attitude that I grew up in... am yet lost in
Conrad, I think you've done a swell job or capturing that eerie flatness, that spooky sense of emptiness and yet of immanence, of things poised at the brink of some mysterious transformation, in Reverdy's image spaces.
I've tried my hand at several of these, including:
Reverdy: Each His Share
Reverdy: Slates
Tom,
your description of a Reverdy line,"of things poised at the brink of some mysterious transformation" is perfect! Thank you for your encouraging comments on my efforts.
I will try some of the more challenging 'prose poems' later, and hopefully I will get some expert critique from you.
Post a Comment