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

Greg Kelm
Quebec City, QC

The Secret Musings of Agathe Brisebois


I have been working forever,
yet produce evanescence.

shapes filled with space
the true purpose of colours

Speaking of colours,
those that fade
are not meant to last.


Jingle jangle, words in a tangle.

Poetry jumbles up
my forgotten memories.

****

He walked towards me to ask me for the time,
I refused to answer.
He looked surprised, so I said:
don't worry, it'll be here soon.

It was noon.
One day, I lived my life,
and the next, I lived yours.
Afterwards, it was over.

"I think you are a poet
but you will not find anything new,
that is, anything worthwhile,
except by gazing at your own navel."
(Max Jacob,
in a letter to François Gachot, May 7, 1926)

****

Do not forget the photographs;
of us dancing in Sospel,
aboard the Merlanson.

summer love
a currant in my brain

Mysteries that breed
like bunnies. Congratulations!

"The combination of illusion and reality
in the same object makes it
the troubling reflection of our soul."
(Bernard Noël,
The Paintings of Desire, 1992)

I like abstraction
in the voids of reality.

****

My anonymity,
weighs heavily upon me, on some days,
makes me sad, on others;
I am happy nonetheless
because no-one can take it from me.
But when I write, when I draw,
I feel like a queen, adored by my subjects.

Making others happy is exhausting
for those who do not like themselves enough.

****

Style.
What can I do about it?

CHANCE IS THE PRODUCT
OF A PAINT-BY-WINNING-NUMBER KIT.


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