.
Un regard de braises d’étoiles
Limpide comme l’océan,
Nul nuage ni nulle voile
Ne viennent se perdre en son céans,
Sa voix comme la fraîche brise
Virevoltant sa chevelure,
Souffle les flammes et les attise,
Dessine à l’ombre son allure
Si éthérée mais si puissante
Et illumine sa passion,
Son imagination dansante,
Que ne tait nulle hésitation;
Comment donc m’élever auprès
De cette créature là,
Ce sans que ne fane l’apprêt
De ce doux bouquet de lilas ?
.
.
In that pitch black emptiness
Lies nothing else but time
And the space to achieve
The dreams of many a man
Like a life-size game of chess,
Strategy made sublime
By the power to weave
Even death in your great plan
With absolute steadiness,
For one mistake and chime
The bells then come retrieve
The otherworldly doorman
Your soul from all this madness,
The basic paradigm
In which to see, believe
The vastness of all that span.
.
.
Somewhere out there awaits an elephant
By a dried out fountain near a red tree
Calling for your return to a land, free,
Not tall or proud or even triumphant,
Just waiting patiently with open arms
To welcome with joy a very old friend,
Ready at a word a shoulder to lend,
A tear to shed to wake up the olds charms…
.
.
Les ciel est clair, les oiseaux chantent
Le vent est doux, la rosée fraîche,
L’odeur salée, un peu revêche,
De ma mer natale me hante.
En ce paysage immobile
La mort et la vie s’entremêlent
Tournant en rond – lent carrousel –
Avec une finesse habile.
Que fonde alors – précieux écume –
La belle et fugace richesse
Quand tombe la vieille tristesse
Que nul feu jamais ne rallume.
Un homme dort dans le grand lit
Du doux espoir qui, malicieux,
S’infiltre depuis les hauts cieux
Aux racines des pissenlits,
Les yeux fermés, le teint si pâle,
Ses lourds soupirs restent reclus
Dans ses lèvres sous le blanc châle;
Un homme dort, l’esprit n’est plus…
*
Les yeux fermés, le teint si pâle,
Nul souffle ne s’échappe plus
De ses lèvres sous le blanc châle;
Un homme dort, esprit reclus…
.
Avec fin alternative.
.
Of the thousands of words in the dictionary,
As the billions of stars in this wide universe,
Of the many meanings making my heart wary
And my old soul weary as with love I converse,
Why, I ask, had you to choose this one precisely,
With phrasing such as this, spoken so concisely…?
Oh my dear you would be so very inhumane
To give me hope and let it long enough remain
For it to bore its roots in the deeps of my core
Only to rip away, throw it onto the floor;
Yet I would let you cheat your way into my life,
Consciously give my back to you the cruelest knife,
I am already lost, my mind is made up – dour –
Never shall I leave now the scope of your power.
I am yours to command so order my sweet dame
Anything you wish I shall conquer in your name,
You have my devotion, I am your faithful tool,
I dance obediently in the palm of your hand,
No enemy shall pass through the path where I stand,
Forever my soul belongs to you; lovestruck fool…
.
“Then I am the king of fools and my heart is the crown”,
he said with a bittersweet smile as he turned to look towards her.
.
As time has come to go to bed
I know not why I cannot sleep,
I have counted a million sheep…
Got an old song stuck in my head;
It goes like this: wide blue ocean
Upon which sails a golden ship,
Around the world goes its long trip
In slow and smooth locomotion,
The captain, a strong man of old,
Seeks a legendary potion
That is said to birth emotion
For lone hearts that have long grown cold.
Mighty, he roams the seven seas,
Under the skies, above water
Spans the kingdom of his daughter
For whom each day heavens he pleas.
He would conquer the world for her
And not even to the gods bow
But it is too late for that now
Only wait brings what comes after…
No one can hear the silent cries
But the soft wind and the seagull,
Though not a day does his heart dull,
Oh the flame burns bright in his eyes!
.
.
Under a cold, starry heavenly vault
Treading on old, icy land made of salt
Lies your body, my dear child, immobile.
Regrettably, your heart was so noble,
Regrettably for we had to cross path,
O destiny! How cruel is your wrath!
So young a life that you have made me take,
Such bloody trail that I leave in my wake…
A hundred years, no, perhaps a thousand,
Far too early you were to ever hope
To clash with me head to head and to cope
With my power, to not meet a foul end,
You may be strong but you are full of pride
And ignorant of the ways of the world,
Like a lion which never stained its hide,
Logically, events have thus unfurled…
.
.
En cette froide nuit,
Calme et sereine,
Mais un peu mélancolique aussi,
Tu es ma reine.
Lorsque le sommeil guette
Et que la fatigue assaillit
C’est là que dans ma tête
Cet étrange univers jaillit !
Plein de tristesse, de joie aussi,
Plein d’aventures, de chers amis,
Plein de magie et de tours réussis,
Plein de désirs lors de l’éveil omis…
.
Petite expérience de poésie libre.
.
Liquid beams of sunlight
Running down on my skin
Warming my sore body,
Healing my wounded might;
There is no word akin
Or that could embody
The depth of this feeling;
Arms flung to the ceiling,
A wide smile on my lips,
Eyes closed in order to
Relish this short ellipse
From world, life and love too.
.
.
If a picture is worth a thousand words,
How much is worth then one of your bright smiles?
If a lecture can birth out of a herd,
How much can birth then a long life of trials?
If a single step can change a person,
How much can then a stairway to the sun?
And if a single word, a single smile,
Is worth entire worlds, a thousand miles,
How precious could be then such a soft tune
Hummed so bittersweetly under the moon?
.
Tales of Ore 