Léona Queyrouze
USA
Le désir
Gran duol mi presse al cor.
Dante. Inferno.
Perchè cantando il duol si disacerba.
Petrarca.
Un baiser que jamais la lèvre ne saisit,
Une étoile attirant le papillon caprice,
Jusqu’à ce que son vol se lasse et s’alourdisse
Un appel insensé que l’écho nous redit;
Une ombre qui fait signe et dans l’ombre s’enfuit;
Fantôme que l’on nomme Idéal, Béatrice;
Espérance enlacée au regret, précipice
Où flottent Paolo, Francesca dans leur nuit:
O désir! monstre ailé, phalène sidérale!
O démon qui nous tends une toile infernale
Où l’insecte, la fleur, l’homme vient expirer:
Que de genoux meurtris, que de mains étendues!
Que l’homme est malheureux, vivant pour t’adorer,
Et quels soleils naîtront de nos larmes perdues.
“Résponse” a L.H.”
(translated)
Medea, you have spoken the words of truth
and have taken your name, thus, woman of somber eyes
with a heart shy yet proud, filled with rebellion and shadow
And you hold the hand of a friend named: Treason!
Poets, make your honey, for she will make it poison
With curses and prayers without end
Calling from the heavens when hope grows dim,
And her screams will shake the walls of your turret.
Shedrinksdeepthedewoftherose’stremblingchalice;
Taking the rays of morning for her own
even as she sees in the night with cold clarity
the places of tombs that give rise to hate
where she will reap her harvest while humanity sleeps
and quietly claim her own like a moth in the night
“Fantôme D’Occident: A Lafcadio Hearn Au Japon:”
The golden Chrysanthemum now blossoms
unrestrained under the vast night skies
In a place of mystery, and in a strange embrace
The growing slender threads catch the light.
The ghost of the moon appears without a sound
Pretending to hide its face with its hands.
--a distant phantom, with a vague complaint
All at once it disappears, fainting away.
It comes from a country where the pure and blond Night
Can never entirely escape the bonds that tie,
Of azure blooms and white magnolias.
The moon gives birth to the trembling stars
Each one a tearful pupil, where like the shadow of Ophelia
In a deep river, they cast their veils
“Nocturne”
We come together at this old table in our ennui
Before the hands of ice pass over us.
Yes, a tangled golden glow of light envelops us
And serenity comes to us in this place.
Come, review this book with me. It is the one
That will ease our confusion. Here is the place.
We choose not to believe that our lives are passing, but the trace
Of our tears and the echo of our laughter tells us so.
No, our stirring should be in harmony
Attuned on a lute with radiant chords
As our spirits become an offering to the Divine Breath.
Just as my hand turns these sheets of poetry
So, too, shall we be joined in the end,
I, you, as it has always been, in infinite sweetness
Mon âme avait jadis une chère patrie
Où le chêne puissant de l’amitié croissait.
Pour soutenir le ciel sa cime se dressait
Et ses rameaux chantelent à l’ étoille fleurie.
A son ombre s’ouvrait, fille de l’Ionie,
La tendre violette; et sans peur mûrissait
La moisson de l’espoir q’un rayon caressait
Etait-ce donc un rêve en mon âme meurtrie?
Quel insecte a rongé le bel arbre vainqueur?
Quel parasite a bu la sève de son coeur?
On n’entend plus les chants dans la haute ramée;
Une pesante nuit tombe de l’au delà;
L’étoille s’est eteinte et la fleur s’est fermée.
C’etait un rêve, helasun reve tout cela!
“Agonie:”
Once my soul held a cherished vision
and like a tree, it grew in strength and love
and its very summit held the skies aloft
with branches blooming into stars
And the night sky opened for the daughter of Ionie
and the tender violets bloomed without fear
to hope and was blessed by light--
So when were the dreams of souls broken?
What insidious worm began to gnaw at its core?
Which parasite drank up the sap of its heart?
And silenced the music of the heavens?
And leave my soul in the darkness of tombs
with its stars extinguished and blossoms closed--
Was it all a dream-- a dream all?
“Ad Pennam”
Gold and fine pearls are reflected in the sky
Like fine jewels, but I want to make it into a sword
As we both struggle for the same dream,
Without faltering in the clash of a strange duel.
It was never my original intent to fight over the honey
Of the swarm of Hymette. Or burning leaves.
My large heart is still open for you even as you drink from it without pity
Never realizing that the venom you drank was bile.
But when I lost faith, I lost courage,
The hand I placed in yours was for our alliance
And I did not reproach you, but alas, was it not to reconcile?
Oh, I never wanted this dark struggle
Or wished for the power to defeat you! Oh no. Rather, for us to sway
In the shrouding river, where we could fall into silence
If ever you learned to despair
All that you had cherished, and rose up with your face smeared
And your knees bleeding, at the last station
Of the cross on Golgotha, and then drink without ever emptying
The deep chalice that makes you tremble close to breaking
And to doubt that you and the gods are the same;
And like Julien, without any comprehension
Cast your blood to the heavens without being able to appease;
If ever your dreams became grindstones and all seemed
Formidable, and Life was for you an empty soul
And Like Samson, you wandered in the desert
Without dawn and without stars in delirious darkness
Well then, gladiator, I am forced to smile
Ah! Do not blaspheme. You have not suffered!