Le nègre, mineur de l'azur
Que jamais pleuvoir ne mouille
Pâlit courbé dans la houille
Bleue et brute du soleil dur
CASE DE L'ONCLE TOM, les rampes et les herses
Du théâtre jadis me firent voyager
Loin de notre jardin de banlieue où l'averse
Fait fleurir l'arc-en-ciel aux couleurs sans danger
Fraîche comme une rose.
Sage comme une image.
Votre cœur
en forme de cœur:
c'est bien rare.
Franc comme l'or. Rosa la rose.
Toutes les rose perdent leurs joues
Ssur le tapis; combien de masques?
Je suis pâle comme la mort.
Pendant la nuit, une rose
Avance tous feux éteints.1
S'il arrivait quelque chose,
Elle attendra le matin.
Les noix, ta mère les dore,
Pour ton arbre de Noël.
Souliers au bord de l'aurore...
Ils apprivoisent le ciel.
Jadis, l'enfance chérie,
Voyageait, allumant des
Liverpool de féerie,
Splendides à regader.
Une moustiquaire en tulle
Comme la neige on y meurt.
Surtout, si l'étoile brûle
Les ailes du ramoneur.
Autour de la Sainte Vierge
Il fait chaud ce sont les cierges
On se trouve toujours heureux
Dans un vase de loterie bleu
Dessus le prénom des morts
Est inscrit en lettres d'or
Le crabe sort sur ses pointes
Avec ses bras en corbeille;.
Il sourit jusqu'aux oreilles
La danseuse d'Opéra,
au crabe toute pareille,
Sort dans la coulisse peinte,
En arrondissant les bras.
Madame
O
madame
voilà ce qu'il faudrait comprendre
vous me dites toujours que vous aimez le beau
le beau qui ça? le beau Léandre?
1The published score has "sous feux eteints."
The negro, miner of the azure
which rain never wets
grows pale, hunched in the blue and harsh
coal of the relentless sun
UNCLE TOM'S CABIN, the ramps and the hearses
of the theatre once made me travel
far from our suburban garden where the downpour
causes the rainbow with colours free of danger to flower
Fresh as the rose.
Wise as a picture.
Your heart
shaped like a heart:
it's rare indeed.
Honest as gold. Rosa the rose.
All the roses loose their blush
on the carpet; how many masks?
I am as pale as death.
During the night, a rose
approaches all lights out.
If something were to happen,
it would wait till morning.
The walnuts, your mother paints them gold,
for your Christmas tree.
Shoes on the edge of the dawn...
They tame the sky.
Formerly, dear childhood,
traveled, lighting up
Liverpools of fantasy,
which were magnificent to watch.
A tulle mosquito net
like snow one dies there.
Especially, if the star burns
the wings of the chimney-sweep.
Around the Virgin Mary
it is warm it is the candles
one always feels happy there
in a blue lottery vase
upon it the first names of the dead
are inscribed in characters of gold
The crab comes out on its toes
holding its arms out like a basket;
it smiles to its ears.
The dancer at the Opera,
just like the crab,
comes out into the wings made-up,
holding her arms out in a circle.
Madame
O
madame
that is what ought to be understood
you always tell me that you love the handsome
the handsome who? The handsome Léandre?
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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