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

Hillary Rose
Acadia University


Agathe Brisebois' Secret books

By Patrick Coppens

Translation by Hillary Rose

****

I work for eternity
but in evanescence

shapes occupied by space
intimate reason of colours

About colours,
those that fade
were not made to last.

Cold of small bells, sleigh of words.

Poetry clutters
my forgotten memories.

****

He came close to ask me the time,
I refused him.
In the face of his taken aback look, I clarified:
Don't worry, she will come.

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

“I believe you are a poet
but you find nothing new,
which means the essential,
unless contemplating your navel.”
(Max Jacob,
letter to François Gachot, May 7, 1926)
****

Don't forget the photographs;
the ones where we danced in Sospel,
along the edge of the Merlanson.

summer loves
a currant in my head

Mysteries reproduce
like rabbits. Nice one!

“Assembly of illusion and reality
in the same object turns it into
the disturbing mirror of our interiority.”
(Bernard Noel,
Les peintres du désir, 1992)

I like abstraction
in the cracks of reality.

****

Anonymity
certain days, weighs me,
others, upsets me;
I am delighted all the same
because no one can deprive me of it.
But when I write, when I draw,
I feel like a queen, praised by my subjects.


Exhausted liking those
who do not like each other enough.

****

Style.
Can I what?


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