[ untitled ]
even if the branches wave
rustle
the evening light drowns
everything
bathes swathes soft
tranquil
we have
calm
lowered the gates of memory
shut the books
wind sweeps the rest
for a moment
we seem to belong
to the wind to the light
standing
unmoving
empty
as if here time left
a bit of slack in the rope
as if brusque there were
not a clean breakaway
but less wall
--Antoine Emaz
(my translation)
même si les branches bougent
ReplyDeletebruissent
la lumière du soir noie
tout
baigne enrobe douce
tranquille
on
calme
a fermé les vannes de mémoire
les livres
le vent balaie le reste
pour un peu on dirait
faire presque partie
du vent de la lumière
en restant là
sans bouger
vide
comme si le temps ici laissait
du mou dans sa corde
comme s’il y avait brusque
non une échappée belle
mais moins de murs
what a strange poem. how the word placement and line breaks force me to stay still and be sure of myself as i go, open myself to perceive this world he asks us to perceive.
ReplyDeletei have to stop for some time and train my mind on brusque to even begin to understand, but i have already done this many times for shorter stops earlier in the poem, for he begins dashing my expectation in line break right away, setting me up to expect a comma after we have in the second part, as i read one in myself between wave, rustle in the first.
and how he does not do what is natural, for he is asking for us to open a deep and unnatural stillness, forcing adverbs into new and more still structures, as though we might lower any gate calm instead of calmly, but the word calm now becomes the act itself, reducing the action of lower.
and yes, my favorite line, "lowered the gates of memory". (you've explained to me the translation of this particular gate but how i must have felt the importance of lowering the gate, more formal, more ceremonial, than simply closing it.)
and the photograph ... how does one speak to such things? i feel great (and quiet) reverence for it and for the world which it represents))))
xo
erin