Mots en mouvement /Words on the Move 2008

Traduction du poème "Carnets secrets d'Agathe Brisebois" de Patrick Coppens.
Translation of Patrick Coppens' poem "Carnets secrets d'Agathe Brisebois

Maxianne Berger

The Secret Notebooks
of Agathe Brisebois

Patrick Coppens

*****

I work towards forever
but within evanescence.

shapes filled up with room
the intimate thinking of colours

And speaking of colours,
those going by
weren't made to survive.


Chill of sleighbells, sledding words.

Poetry makes a muddle
of the memories I don't recall.

*****

He came nearer to ask for the time;
I disinclined.
He seemed dismayed, so I clarified:
don't you worry, the time will come...

It was noon.
One day, I lived a life of my own;
the next day, it was yours.
After that, it was over.

"I believe you are a poet
but to come across anything new,
that is, anything necessary,
you'll have to gaze at your own navel."
(Max Jacob, in a letter to François Gachot,
May 7, 1926)

*****

Let's not forget the photos –
the ones of us dancing in Sospel
on the banks of the Merlanson.

summer love
pudding head

Mysteries reproduce like
rabbits. A tip of the hat to you!

"A construction of illusion and reality
within the same object makes of it
the disturbing mirror of our inner self."
(Bernard Noël, Les peintres du désir, 1992)

I like abstraction
within the interstices of reality.

*****

Being anonymous –
some days it's a burden,
while other days it makes me sad;
but over all, I'm pleased because
no one can take it away.
When I write, when I draw,
I feel I'm a queen, my subjects fawning.

Being congenial exhausts
those who haven't enough self-love.

*****

As for technique,
what can I do?



LUCK IS A PAINTING
BY NUMBERS THAT WIN.



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