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

Stephanie Grey
Acadia University


The Secret Notebooks
of Agatha Brisebois

by Patrick Coppens
Translated by Stephanie Grey


I work for eternity
But in evanescence.

Shapes busy in space
The intimate minds of colors

When it comes to colors,
Those that pass us by,
Were not made to last.

The chill of bells on a sleigh of words.

Poetry puts disorder
In my forgotten memories.

*****

He comes near me to ask the time
I refuse to tell him.
Before he is taken aback, I make it clear:
Don't worry, she is coming.

It was noon.
One day, I lived my life,
And the next day, I lived your life.
After that, it was over.

“I believe you are a poet
But you will never find what is new,
What is essential,
Unless contemplating your own bellybutton.”
(Max Jacob,
Letter to Francois Fachot, May 7th 1926)

*****

Don't forget the photos;
The ones where we are dancing in Sospel,
On the coast of Merlanson.

Summer loves
A redcurrant in the mind

Mysteries reproduce
Like rabbits. Congratulations!

“The assembly of illusions and realities
In the same object make it
The troubling mirror of our inner souls”
(Bernard Noel,
Les peintres du désir, 1992)

I love abstraction
In the cracks of reality.

*****

Anonymity,
Some days it matters to me,
Other days, it bothers me;
I'm delighted all the same
Because no one can deny me.
But when I write, when I draw,
I feel like a queen, worshipped by my subjects.

To please tires those
Who do not love enough.

*****

Style.
Where can I go from here?


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