Carole Laviolette
traduction du poème de Patrice Desbiens.)

I remember a station wagon that slices the night
that opens up the northern night like a hunting knife
opens up its prey
We are all there
my mother my sister her husband and her children all
in the car it's
Johnny B. Good Leblanc who's driving his face dimly
lit up by the dashboard
I'm the only passenger who's not sleeping while
we get on with a ravaged green sea on
each side
My sister sleeps in the front seat
darkness travelling in and out of her open mouth
The night is long and wrinkle-free
The night is long and wrinkle-free
The night is long and wrinkle-free
The night is long and free Suddenly
some thing tears the fabric something moves
there and
the windshield becomes a movie screen lights
by Twentieth Century Fox and Gulf Western spotlighting
the animal the animal the moose in the middle of the road
that's stopped and
blinded by its fate coming at it at 60 miles an hour
His eyes his eyes his eyes dear God that look till
the last minute and the deaf-mute bump of steel against
skin
And my sister waking up screaming a great scream
terrible and
terminal as if the soul of the moose had passed to
her upon
dying and finally
the silence
the silence of our silence in
the silence between
Timmins and Toronto.

Home / Page d'accueil