.
There is a pond that is clear and calm
In a garden full of sweet fruit trees,
Feel the grace of the world in your palm
And under the warm sun a cool breeze.
The soft chirping of the birds echoes
As the young poet rests in the shade,
His mind far away from his fellows
Above great and wide oceans of jade.
.
.
I close my eyes
and see her pass
Eclair de blond
et de violet
Many goodbyes
break me like glass
Que temps est long
sans son reflet
I see you clear,
bright existence
Je ne désire
point ton absence
I feel you near
in the distance
Mes joues rosir
en ta présence
And when this dream
finally fades
Et que je rouvre
mes yeux fermés
My life may seem
bathed in the shades.
Oh je me trouve
déjà charmé…
.
.
Quand retentit le dernier mot
Et tombe la dernière voix
De tous ces étranges jumeaux,
Là, comme la première fois,
Le voile d’obscurité tombe
Attisant par là le silence;
Et de cette douce hécatombe,
Oh ! non sans quelque rutilance,
Renaissent alors les héros
Ayant insufflé mille vies
À la tragique comédie
Dont les musiques et chansons
Furent de grands et beaux hérauts,
Arborant des mines ravies
Lorsque le public leur dédie
Un vivat sans contrefaçon !
.
.
I am your moon; oh discreet and soft is my glow.
A sweet and shy child of the mysterious night
Dancing in the mirror, always in your shadow,
I cast upon the world the echo of your light
Falling slowly, silently in ghostly pure beams
From the heavens above down to the world of man
For the lone poet’s heart to contemplate in dreams,
Millenia of wisdom condensed in a lifespan.
A never-ending dance of two eternal gods
Fated to never meet and never once embrace,
Each other to yearn for and forever to chase;
But I, sweet prince of day, hope, no matter the odds,
And will keep hoping on and dancing like a fool
Offering you my soft light, my most precious jewel…
.
.
If I had to describe you in a single word
I would probably say that you are like the Sun,
This analogy you may have already heard
But let me show you why this one resembles none:
Because you make my night, because you make my day
And, far in the distance, for me you light the way
You are bright and shimmering, you warm my lone heart
Beautiful, breathtaking even, a piece of art,
A golden halo dancing in a sea of stars
Amidst a clear ocean, soothing pains of my scars,
Whether in my eyes or not your image burns true,
You are everything for which I have ever yearned,
Helping me moving forward until I pull through;
But try to get too close and oh! you might get burned…
.
.
When he awakes from rest,
The god of the forest.
*
Can you smell this perfume?
The sweet and pleasant scent
Rising up as a fume
As we make our descent.
Keep your mind to yourself,
Breathe in and count to six,
Watch out for the dark elf
And let him not play tricks;
Come, we must not cower
Before this land of night
Where day has no power,
Where awaits unknown fright.
Oh but I feel no fear
For I am by your side,
Only doubt: can you steer
Any danger aside?
Trust in us, we have gained
The blessings of the god
Of the forest who, pained,
Has given us this rod
To find our way safely
To the land of the free.
Friend I trust you greatly
But under the sky tree
Where we received our gift
Did you not see upon
The face of the World’s son
A dark shade ever swift?
What speak you of dear fool,
Has all your faith vanished?
We were given this tool
To defeat the banished!
This is our sole mission
And we shall not retreat!
My faith and my passion
Are indeed still complete,
It is this place of dread
That, of my whole being,
Has now taken ahold…
Worry not of the cold
Neither of not seeing
For soon you shall be dead!
Said a voice in the dark
As raspy as old bark…
.
.
Tiptoe in the sand,
Smell the salty air,
A wave of the hand
In the soft, warm wind,
Look at the world fair
Your soul to unwind.
Here echoes the sound
Of eternal waves
Caressing the ground
Of a thousand graves;
Weary traveler
Rest body and soul,
Relinquish control,
The unraveller
– The wild blue ocean –
When comes tomorrow,
With its calm motion,
Will soothe your sorrow.
.
*
Six months, three weeks, and four days, I have been on the road. More than half a year. Walking along the white line without any real goal. Almost wandering aimlessly. Not even knowing where I am. The wild. A beautiful place, the wild. A never-ending, silent world without any sign of human presence. Well, except for this old road of course.
The great plains surround you on almost every side. And in the distance, the mountains. Tall, dark and intimidating. Like a horizon they never seem to get closer. Or don’t want to get closer. In the sky either a blazing, burning sun or a grey veil of immobile clouds, as if the heavens themselves were dead. Nothing else in your field of view for a thousand miles, only you and the road.
So what do you do? Well, you walk for one. You walk and you walk more. You follow the road on and on, hoping to reach something or someone. Sometime, eventually. So you walk some more. You get tired, you get exhausted, so exhausted your legs won’t move or stop shaking. You get angry, you shout and yell at the sky, the mountains or the road until your voice becomes hoarse. Then you start running. You run as fast as you can, until your lungs start burning and you are overcome with dizziness. You get desperate, almost surrendering to this wilderness that looms all around and is always watching you. And you walk some more. But you never get anywhere.
So then, what do you do?
You start to think. You think about how warm the wind is, about how blue the sky has become. Then it starts to get deeper, it becomes more personal. Why are you here? Where is here? And then, later still, you begin to wonder if you’re not going crazy. You begin to reflect on who you are, to wonder who you are… But questions always come more numerous than answers. Who are you really? Why are you walking? Where are you going? Where did you come from? How long has it been since you’ve begun your journey…? Since you last ate…? And then you start to count… One, two, three days…
Six months, three weeks and four days…
.
Mon oiseau a les plumes
Aux couleurs noir de jais,
Le bec odeur agrume,
La peau chaleur de brume,
Le cœur plein de projets.
Un oiseau sans pareil
Dont les yeux océan
Et perles de soleil
Aux doux reflets vermeils
Dansent en mon céans.
Et qu’il vole si haut
Scintillant sous les cieux !
Me voilà qui prie, “Ô,
Vous, beaux et puissants dieux,
Accordez moi cette eau
Vive comme les mots
Qui coule sous mes yeux.”
.
Je suis pas tout à fait satisfait de celui-là, sûrement à retravailler plus tard.
Un des poèmes les plus frustrants à écrire jusqu’à présent parce que trop d’idées à caser avec une vision hyper précise de ce que je voulais…
Et je ne sais pas si j’ai réussi, donc doublement frustrant. Mais amusant tout de même, un petit défi très intéressant !
A bon entendeur salut ! ;)
.
Hey, you know, I don’t wanna be the secondhand,
The island you sail to once you leave the mainland,
You know, I don’t wanna be the carriage’s fifth wheel,
The one you think will help you forget how you feel,
You know, I don’t wanna be the candle bearer
The one who will become just another error,
And you know, I don’t wanna be the wanna be
I just wanna be me, the one you love, you see?
.
Tales of Ore 