Stone upon stone, pierre sur pierre



A mere glance at the slippery snake,
Stone, she shouted. You are stone.
And here I stand,
a mere memory of all the memories,
Foregone hopes, spliced lives left unfinished.
Your ashes like a thousand fireflies
catching starlight upon the wings of the dragon
you simply could not slay.
Dust to dust, you are.
Ashes to ashes, you soar.
Stone upon stone, is the weight I bear.


Un coup d'œil furtif au serpent insaisissable,
Pierre, cria-t-elle. Tu seras pierre.
Et me voilà,
un simple souvenir de tous les souvenirs,
Des espoirs perdus, des vies épissées laissées en suspens.
Tes cendres comme mille lucioles
qui attrapent la lumière des étoiles sur les ailes du dragon
que tu n as pas pu tuer.
La poussière à la poussière, te voici.
Les cendres aux cendres, tu voles.
Pierre sur pierre, c'est le poids que je porte, le fardeau de ma vie.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dear soulmate

Dear soulmate, I know you go through darkness, crippled, crumpled, crucified by the past; what could have been, what is not, what one expected you to be; by a future full of the unknown, eschatological fragments which tear you up, rip you apart, yet you cannot bear that burden alone. I'm afraid of the dark, but i promise to kiss the wounds in your heart, the infinite scars in your soul. I've told you before, I have strength inside me which enables me to go beyond the boundaries. If you take my hand, wholly trust me, I can confront that cliff with you, arms around your waist, head against your trembling back. Face the openness, my arms wrapped around you, while you absorb the beauty of feeling moved by something which is beyond your control. The spray from the waves crashing below send droplets of sea salt upon your skin, a reminder that you feel, that you are. Salt of the earth, salt of the soul. When we are both surrounded by that darkness, we will grip each other, cla...
Read more

The secret diary of Lina, aged two and a bit

Friday 15th March 2012, morning Ah, I'm awake. There's Mimi. Where's Nono? PANIC. WHERE IS NONO? Oh, here he is, under my arm. Why is my nappy wet? I want this nappy off. I want to get out of bed. What's this? If I pull on it, what happens next? Ouch. I'm going to cry. MAMA MAMA MAMA. No response. I have to throw toys at the door. Ah, Mama. I can stop crying now. Take my nappy off. No, I want to play, don't take my nappy off. Where's my book? No, not that one, the one with the dogs. I want to kiss you. No, don't hug me. I want to play. Toddler runs off arms flailing, nappyless with baby body flapping behind, into the living room. AH TOYS! JOY! BLISS! I want to empty the basket. BANG, CRASH.  What's that you've got, Mama? Oh, it's your mobile phone. I want to press buttons. I want to talk to Papa. Hello Papa. I'm having a wonderful morning except Mama keeps doing things I don't like. I don't need my face washed, I'm not...
Read more

Tell me

Tell me, who can see, in the longest of nights, when the winds of yesterday have unearthed our amassed souls amongst the dreams and the dead, a suffering sun smothered by the silence of our bodies.  Tell me, who can dance in the debris of the living, reduced to mere bones and flesh, regurgitating the failures and the lines of the last poem in decomposition.  Tell me, who can take these hands, full, lacerated by the claws of time, curved by the invisible intertwining of two worlds.  Tell me, who can believe in the stars and the compasses used by man, drifting endlessly across the continents, facing mirages of truth. Tell me, who can be without words, who can talk without betrayal. Translated and rearranged by me Qui peut dans la plus longue des nuits, là où les vents des veilles déterrent nos amas d'âmes, parmi les songes et les morts, un soleil en peine qui s'éteint dans le silence du  corps, qui peut danser sur les débris des vivants, syncopes des os et...
Read more