These poems are the ones I included in "French Fries" - a group of poems translated from the French originals by different poets - in my book of poems which was published in Feb 2003.


Poems from "French Fries"


Memory
by Lionel Ray b.1935

I carry in me innumerable castles, words.
Their gentle night, their strange lightning.

Between them burn rooster-crests with easy gaiety.
Seasonal birds come and build their nests,

With much clamouring, under the titles of their roofs.
Then forgotten men raise up innumerable winds

Of uncertainty. Like machinery of the old age,
Clamouring lemon trees overwhelm them who come late:

A net of the fog. The words that bring sleep
And that suddenly strike all like axes. Nothing,

Therefore none is there to fill the unfathomable
Hollows in me. I hear the circulation of blood and

Incomprehensible souls. Like a sleeper of antiquity
I stand dreaming of the bloody wounds of the future

These grand hollows of life, without any astonishment.

* * * * * *

The Visit
by Guy Goffette b.1947

Through the window half-open: thousand cries of birds,
the rustling green and the voice of a childhood
amid the hills, the deafening joy
of midday, only all these there are to see

and to hear, lying in between the white quilts,
porters of oranges and of tears suppressed
that ingenuously double your silence. The sea
braces its chains, it's further away,

in the insides of organs. Here, at low-tide,
your smiles are like all these grand castles
that never worn out, along the line of the sea-shore:
your heart sitting in the high chamber,

will see the one it awaits, from a long distance.

* * * * * *

The Mould
by Robert Sabatier b.1923

At that time, the universe was pouring down
My whole body as tender wax usually does.
I was in the valleys, mountains, fields, rivers,
I would wake up as a blue star.

Nature, are you all that far from mine?
Men pass days, simply at the smack
Of words unsettle the destinies of the cosmos.
A god is laughing among the ephemeras
Only being something more than the last mortal.

Everyday, more-than-one space rushes in
From trees to me. O cracked lands infertile,
The naked long arms of mine are of a virtue rare
The ultimate branches which birds leave forever
And I roam in the town without wings.




Poetry by Sofiul Azam
Read 879 times
Written on 2005-10-12 at 11:36

Tags Grief  Hope  Grief 

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chasingtheday The PoetBay support member heart!
i won't rate this as it isn't actually your work, but a translation. but good that you do translate other's pieces so those that do not speak the language can read the work.

nice language - i think those castles are inside us all. we just have to reach and stretch sometimes to gather the words from the spires.
2005-10-12


F.i.in.e Moods The PoetBay support member heart!
toutes références au français fait surgir ma langue maternelle en tête :) le poème n'est donc pas ta création? je suis curieuse de voir la version originale intégrale maintenant :) pourrais-tu inclure le poème original ici pour que je puisse le lire et me familiariser avec ce poète? je suis toujours ouverte pour des nouvelles découvertes dans le monde de la littérature :) en ce qui concerne la traduction, je ne peux comparer à ce stade-ci, mais ce qui est exprimer dans le texte est tout simplement débordant d'émotions et de descriptions qui viennent me toucher... très joli et émouvant, c'est tout ce que je peux offrir en frais d'impressions... :) en espérant pouvoir lire l'original, merci de partager ce poème :f

à +... xx
2005-10-12