an evocation of the poet's nefarious hidden double, essential companion of his conscious personality.
Translated from the French
That gnaws away at me, becomes my sole abode.
Was it motionless hunt or wrong track in some dream,
Am I Actaeon who was torn by his own horde?
A hiding freak, when my twin brother lies, I go
And search, as time goes by all the nooks and crannies.
For there is for us both only one eye, one shoe.
The one who sleeps must watch over the premises.
I'll tell you some day what kind of quest has been mine,
I shall enchant you with my tales and my disdains,
So that the role I play may surge out of my night,
A more mysterious one than Sultan Saladin's.
****************
Je te retrouve en l'abîme qui me ronge
Pour devenir le seul monde où je me tiens.
Poursuite inerte ou fausse piste du songe,
Suis-je Actéon que méconnaissent ses chiens?
Au fil des jours j'expertise le dédale.
Monstre celé, quand je vais mon besson git
Car nous n'avons qu'un oeil et qu'une sandale.
Celui qui dort doit surveiller le logis.
Je te dirai quel fut mon pèlerinage,
T'enchanterai de mes dits, de mes dédains,
Et de ma nuit surgira mon personnage
Opaque, plus que le sultan Saladin.
Poetry by Michel Galiana
Read 1395 times
Written on 2007-11-22 at 15:37
Tags Galiana  Individuality  Thoughts 
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Translated from the French
Twin brother
Here you are again in the depth of the chasmThat gnaws away at me, becomes my sole abode.
Was it motionless hunt or wrong track in some dream,
Am I Actaeon who was torn by his own horde?
A hiding freak, when my twin brother lies, I go
And search, as time goes by all the nooks and crannies.
For there is for us both only one eye, one shoe.
The one who sleeps must watch over the premises.
I'll tell you some day what kind of quest has been mine,
I shall enchant you with my tales and my disdains,
So that the role I play may surge out of my night,
A more mysterious one than Sultan Saladin's.
****************
Je te retrouve en l'abîme qui me ronge
Pour devenir le seul monde où je me tiens.
Poursuite inerte ou fausse piste du songe,
Suis-je Actéon que méconnaissent ses chiens?
Au fil des jours j'expertise le dédale.
Monstre celé, quand je vais mon besson git
Car nous n'avons qu'un oeil et qu'une sandale.
Celui qui dort doit surveiller le logis.
Je te dirai quel fut mon pèlerinage,
T'enchanterai de mes dits, de mes dédains,
Et de ma nuit surgira mon personnage
Opaque, plus que le sultan Saladin.
Poetry by Michel Galiana
Read 1395 times
Written on 2007-11-22 at 15:37
Tags Galiana  Individuality  Thoughts 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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by Michel Galiana Latest textsThe plea of darknessThough your voice The helmsman Miracle gardens Blazon |
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