Certainly one of the most interesting developments has happened to me as a writer over the last few days, certainly this year, which has been a relatively quite one for me with only a few publications appearing since the year began.
Yan Kouton, the Parisian based poet and friend, started translating the sonnets from Henry Street Arcade which I finished sometime last year. After trying unsuccessfully to find a publisher for the book in Dublin, I kind of put the book away.
Yan and I first met up in L'Etiquette wine cave on l'isle Saint Louis in Paris in November 2017. Yan was kind enough to attend the reading I held there with Christophe Bregaint, another wonderful poet based in Paris and whom I have translated on a number of occasions over the last few years, and Cey Jay, the rapper poet from Brussels whom I have also translated.
I did not know Yan at the time, but I met him again in the same wine cave some months later in February 2018. I had organised a meeting with himself and Christophe to discuss a collaboration between the three of us.
Well, after some months, and a few translations more, Yan started translating some of my sonnets, as I said. I can't express how happy I am with Yan's work. It is perhaps one of the most significant things to happen to me as a writer; to have some of my Baudelaire inspired sonnets translated into the language that I know and love so well.
Merci Yan !
Here is a taste of what is to come.
The
Grounding
The
infinite position is the imminent peril of your emplacement,
Such
should be your grounding at every encounter.
For
from such a perspective can come the wholly equalling
Level
of horizontality, allowing you to lie down with another,
Totally
unencumbered by the impossible trappings
Of
the forbidding echelons of absolute emptiness;
Doom
spheres spawning vertical nausea.
Hourly
calculations of liquid ice flows.
Sea
changes involving continents of plastic,
Inside
which swim fish with hardening anatomy.
The
menu on offer will induce testicular cancer.
So,
lie back with him/her and enjoy the tantalising notion
Of
your sheer vulnerability; how they might kill you with but a word.
Or,
for all your days, help you to finally reconstruct the world.
Le Fondement
L'infinie position est l'imminent péril de votre situation,
Telle devrait être votre assise à chaque rencontre.
Car de cette perspective peut venir l’égalité complète
L’horizontalité permettant de se coucher avec l’autre,
Totalement libre des pièges impossibles
Des tabous du vide absolu ;
Les cercles damnés engendrant des nausées verticales.
Les calculs horaires des flux de glace liquide.
Les mers portant des continents de plastique,
Dans lesquels nagent ces poissons à l'anatomie durcie.
Le menu ainsi proposé provoquera un cancer du testicule.
Aussi, couchez-vous avec lui avec elle et céder à la tentation
De votre pure vulnérabilité ; ils pourraient vous tuer d'un mot.
Ou, pour le reste de vos jours, vous aider à reconstruire enfin le monde.
( Translation Yan Kouton, 2019. )
Morning
Commute
We
climb aboard the commuter train
arbeit macht frei
Huddled
together on airtight carriages impregnated with
The
odour of deodorant, perspiration and cheap perfume.
At 8
AM, the majority of us are mezzo del cammin
Most of us males suffer from intestinal
And
bladder complaints, while our female counterparts
Pre-menopausal!
Into the gyre of annihilation, in one
Form
or another, we descend. The younger amongst us
Sleep,
as the rest tap nervously on their iPhones.
Only
one or two read; we are becoming distinctly
A
more eccentric breed, us readers! Because of this,
I
become interested in my immediate neighbour.
Sockless
in brogues, like me she turns the page.
The
buttons on her overcoat burn talismanic.
Despite
the anonymity some of us can still reach for the sublime.
Trajet Matinal
Nous montons à bord du train de banlieue arbeit macht frei
Entassés dans des wagons étanches imprégnés de
L'odeur de déodorant, de transpiration et de parfum bon marché.
À 8 heures du matin, la majorité d'entre nous sont mezzo del cammin
La plupart des hommes souffrent des intestins
Et de troubles de la vessie, tandis que nos partenaires féminins
Sont pré-ménopausées ! Dans le tourbillon de l’anéantissement, d'une
Façon ou d’une autre, nous descendons. Le plus jeune parmi nous
Dors, les autres tapotent nerveusement sur leur iPhone.
Un ou deux seulement lisent ; nous devenons distinctement
Une race excentrique, nous les lecteurs ! À cause de ça,
Je m'intéresse à ma proche voisine.
Pieds nus dans des brogues, comme moi elle tourne la page.
Les boutons de son pardessus brillent comme un talisman.
Malgré l’anonymat, certains d’entre nous atteignent toujours le sublime.
( Translation Yan Kouton, 2019 )
These two poems were first published in Levure Litteraire issue 13, see link.
http://levurelitteraire.com/thomas-brezing-artist-germany-dorsaf-garbaa-poet-tunisia-ceejay-rapperpoet-belgium-peter-o-neill-translatortransverse-poet-ir
See also Yan's wonderful blog
http://k-yk.blogspot.com/
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