.

See how he looks back in hope and forward in shame,

Hopeless feeling, naught will ever be the same;

And now, front again, he has no word.

While the train rocked and rolled along the tracks

Hope remained in him to somehow veil the cracks,

But stillness brings silence, and, in silence, loss.

The dwindling flame under great Boreas’s sigh,

Sinking anchor in the waters of divinations nigh,

Is prime example of Promethean pride.

A word shall be broken, promise will not be kept,

A cool, life-tainted blade will forever be wept

As all possibles but one fade.

.

Too little is sometimes too much and, too much, too little.

.

Black bird on my shoulder,

A young crow is aquothing,

It has removed the boulder

Or was it but clothing?

The omens have spoken

And the bone dice have been cast,

Virgil stands atop the mast

A ship not yet broken;

What see his elvish eyes

Upon the seas and their rhyes?

It is for the sailor’s heart

Only to know this part.

.

Even eighty days might not be enough to cross this sea…

.

and silence is devoid of nothing.

.

There [] stand alone yet unbroken

With [] after-image as the only token,

[] wanted to be gone – to smithereens ! –

Chiseled into pieces of a thousand other scenes,

[] am whole and yet [] am empty

A dark hole, a soundless entity

Writing words to exist and to be remembered

By others and [][], a seal burned in the flesh,

And the soul, as dry wood is embered

Before a cloud of dust turns [][] into mesh.

.

[] wanted to experiment with something else. There [] go.

.

Il est quelques regrets

Sur lesquels je devrais

Peut-être, oui, il est vrai,

Tirer enfin un trait…

Mais est-ce si facile ?

Malgré de grands conciles

Mon coeur n’est point docile

Devant un si sourd cil

Et il se laisse aller

A des perles salées

Depuis longtemps scellées

En des pages jaunies,

Car par ces jeux j’honnis

Cet amour que je nie.

.

MM. Jekyll & Hyde.

.

The time to go has come,

The time to come has gone,

Only that to live is left…

.

For once, don’t think. Just be.

.

As I walk

Alone

On the street

I know what I want

Where I am going

I can see the paths

Lying

In front if me

A crossroads

North, South, East and West

Perseverance

Or retreat

Yet

Hope and melancholy

Melt in opposites

And I stand

Final and tall

Here

In the unknown

.

As I talk…

.

Laissez passer, laissez passer les rêves,

Ceux des oublieux comme ceux des oubliés,

Ceux des temps où l’on rêve de mieux,

Ceux des temps où tout semble plié,

Laissez passer, laissez passer les rêves,

A trente huit ans on n’est plus qu’un homme,

Plus encore un enfant même si c’est tout comme,

Vingt mille yeux sous les mers vieilles du monde

Observant une terre qui brûle tant elle est ronde,

Laissez passer, laissez passer les rêves,

Sans les tasser, sans les casser,

A coups de vagues déchaînées sur la grève,

Laissez les, laissez leur une trêve,

Laissez passer, laissez passer les rêves,

Au risque de nous lasser.

.

Inspiré par les mots de Michel Berger et France Gall, ainsi que la voix de Diam’s.

.

Не этих ивовых плавающих ветвей
Касаюсь истово — а руки твоей!

Для всех в томленье славщих твое подьезд —
Земная женщина, мне же — небесный крест!

Тебе одной ночами кладу поклоны, —
И все твоими очами глядят иконы!

(only the second half, which was all that was presented to me)

[The complete poem with translation]

.

I do not speak Russian, this is not an actual translation of the poem. The exercise – as the first draft of this poem was first written during a poetic creative writing class – was not to understand the original poem, rather to feel its structure and it’s rhythm, in order to create a translation. Here is what it inspired to me, I hope you enjoy it.

The only reason I added the original poem is to give you an idea of what it looked like to me and a means of comparison with my production. I did not write it, it does not belong to me and I do not wish to take any advantage of it by posting it on this website other than that of showing you what inspired me. Thank you for your understanding.

.

Roses are red,

Violets are not blue,

Well, not all the time,

Sometimes they are white,

But let it be said

That I love you,

I have for some time

And do again every night.

.

A little something, stupid and rash, but true.