Where seclusion is praised both as a source of inspiration and a guarantee of stylistic genuineness.



The plea of darkness

Your face, mirrored, shows you what my own face is like,
But hides your secret pain, and what for in my night
I exude and secrete my chant and my venom.
On the quiet looking glass my mould will hold and shape
The shadow you fancied was there your self to ape
And it proved the ghost right whom you called a demon.

When you'll set to decline a storm will be rising,
A last whirlwind will shake the uppermost roofing
Of the stronghold which you imagined to have built.
Crushed timber, ruined pillars will your decay proclaim.
As a harsh usurer, I'll insist on my claim.
No one may go to court who ignores law and bill.

I bought your eloquence from taciturnity,
Taught you the dawning day, the flowers, the dainty
Dance of the little girl in her garden who sprouts:
Which judge could then deny that you're to me in debt?
In night nuggets the weight of feasts must be repaid
And once judgment is passed, appeal must be shut out.

Over yonder, heralds shall proclaim the sentence.
Onto the trees bailiffs shall nail the penitence
And to escape from gibe and from your punishment,
Hunted by alien glee, rejected from all dance,
You shall take refuge in my preserve of silence
Where your days may be spent as a mere entombment.

Plaidoyer de l'ombre

Tes visages mirés t'enseignent mon visage,
Mais non ton mal secret, mais non pour quel usage
Je distille en ma nuit mes chants et mes poisons.
Ma forme au tain qui dort hèle, fixe et façonne
Le reflet que tu crus ton compagnon et donne
Au fantôme que tu nommais larve, raison.

Lorsque sur ton déclin montera la tempête,
Un dernier tourbillon ébranlera le faîte
Du palais que pour toi tu crus bâtir. Les bois
Rompus, les piliers chus diront ta déchéance.
Tenace usurier, j'invoque ma créance.
Or, nul ne peut plaider s'il ignore les lois.

Pour avoir acheté ta parole au silence,
Pour t'avoir enseigné, l'aube, les fleurs, la danse
De la fille au jardin lorsque germe le sang,
Quel juge à  mon égard pourra nier ta dette?
En pépites de nuits, je veux le poids des fêtes
Et que l'arrêt rendu, l'appel soit impuissant.

Outre rive, un héraut clamera la sentence.
Aux arbres le recors clouera ta pénitence
Et pour n'ouïr ta peine et le rire qui ment,
Traqué par tout bonheur, chassé de toute danse,
Tu gagneras mon fief encerclé de silence
Pour que tes jours ne soient qu'un engloutissement.





Poetry by Michel Galiana
Read 974 times
Written on 2011-12-02 at 23:17

Tags Galiana  Solitude 

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text