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

Andrea Johnston
Toronto, Ontario


Secret Notebooks
of Agathe Brisebois

Patrick Coppens

*****

In my work I'm trying to forge diamonds
out of smoke.

Shapes filled with space
the inside reason for colours

Speaking of colours,
those that fade
were never made to last.

Shiver of silver bells, a sleigh of words.

Poetry mixes up
the memories I've forgotten.

*****

He came over to ask me the time.
I wouldn't tell him.
He seemed taken aback, so I explained:
Don't worry, she'll show up.

It was high noon.
One day I lived my life.
The next, yours.
After that, it was over.

“I believe you are a poet
but you will only find something new,
by which I mean something essential,
by contemplating your own navel.”
(Max Jacob,
letter to François Gachot, May 7, 1926)

*****
Don't forget the snapshots:
the ones of us dancing in Sospel,
on the banks of the Merlanson.

summer love
a gooseberry fool

Mysteries breed
like rabbits. Hats off!

“Building illusion and reality
into a single object creates
a disturbing mirror of our inner being.”
(Bernard Noël,
Les peintres du désir, 1992)

I love the abstract
in the interstices of the real.

*****

Anonymity,
some days, gets me down,
and others, worked up;
even so, I revel in it
because no one can take it away from me.
But when I'm writing, when I'm drawing,
I feel like a queen, adored by my subjects.

Being likeable wears on people
who don't like themselves enough.

*****

Style.
What am I supposed to do?

LUCK IS A PAINT-BY-
WINNING NUMBERS


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