An allegory of poetry


You gather saps on fruit and you roam on rubbish,
Winged messenger of gods, whose shape is devilish,
Who benumb with your persistent humming my ears.
Wasp? You are more surely one of these busy bees
That forward from vineyards germs to alien buds
Thus causing to revive and thrive decaying shrubs.

I am such a vinestock grafted from anywhere,
A stately interlace, flexible, unaware
Of the sly fly that joined my taciturnity
With grapes flowing with wine and swinging placidly.


Butineuse des fruits, rôdeuse des limons,
Intercesseuse ailée et forme des démons
Dont le bourdonnement engourdit mes oreilles,
Guêpe et plus sûrement ouvrière des treilles,
As-tu transmis le germe aux bourgeons étrangers
Et préparé l'éveil et l'essor des vergers?

Je suis le cep ainsi sur la branche poussé,
Entrelac somptueux qui se ploie, et ne sais
Quel insecte secrêt féconde mon silence
D'une grappe où le vin afflue et se balance.

Poetry by Michel Galiana
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Written on 2008-05-29 at 14:52

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