Poem
Serge Delaive
Ballad of a dead man
As I walked along the promontoryI noticed my father was standing there
at the same place as years before
and his ghost passed through me
while the raging sea was imploring
but it was so long ago now that I died
death inside death before and around
so long since I dragged my chains
over the ridge of this cliff beside the void
and that burden of the sky ever the same
weighing on my skeleton’s frame
to drag me into the precipices which haunt me
when I struggle at daybreak against my belly
all those mornings ever the same
with death who takes me by the hand
me, such a fearful child
who wanders in the labyrinth
through a sad fairyland deep in his head
across the slanting sketch of glances
here on the bulge of chalky cliff
for all paths even when resting still
mean for me a complicated cliff
whose slope leads down to the sea
vast sheet billowing in the frowns of wind
cloth spread like a catafalque
even now above the chasms
and I was walking along the promontory
where my father had stood before me
all those mornings ever the same
when his ghost passed through me
at the moment of the tide’s turning
which snatched the patient bodies in the ebb tide
I was kneeled there on the ground
I knew that soon my turn would come.
Ballade de l\'homme mort
Ballade de l\'homme mort
Comme je marchais sur le promontoireje m’aperçus que mon père s’était tenu là
au même endroit bien des années plus tôt
et son fantôme m’a traversé
alors que la mer furieuse implorait
mais il y a si longtemps que je suis mort
mort dedans mort devant et tout autour
si longtemps que je traîne mes chaînes
sur la crête de cette falaise au bord du vide
et que le poids du ciel toujours pareil
appuie sur l’armature de mon squelette
pour m’entraîner vers les précipices qui me hantent
quand je lutte au petit matin contre mon ventre
tous les matins toujours pareils
avec la mort qui me tend la main
moi tel l’enfant craintif
qui s’égare dans le labyrinthe
en une féerie triste au fond de sa tête
à travers l’épure oblique des regards
ici sur le rebond de la falaise crayeuse
car tout chemin même immobile
signifie pour moi une falaise compliquée
dont la pente mène vers la mer
vaste drap ondulant dans les fronces du vent
tissu étendu comme un catafalque
par-dessus des gouffres encore
et je marchais sur le promontoire
où mon père s’était tenu avant moi
tous les matins toujours pareils
quand son fantôme m’a traversé
au moment de la renverse de marée
qui happait les corps patients dans le jusant
alors je me suis agenouillé sur le sol
je savais que bientôt mon tour viendrait.
© 2011, Serge Delaive
From: Art farouche
Publisher: Editions de la Différence, Paris
From: Art farouche
Publisher: Editions de la Différence, Paris
Poems
Poems of Serge Delaive
Close
Ballad of a dead man
As I walked along the promontoryI noticed my father was standing there
at the same place as years before
and his ghost passed through me
while the raging sea was imploring
but it was so long ago now that I died
death inside death before and around
so long since I dragged my chains
over the ridge of this cliff beside the void
and that burden of the sky ever the same
weighing on my skeleton’s frame
to drag me into the precipices which haunt me
when I struggle at daybreak against my belly
all those mornings ever the same
with death who takes me by the hand
me, such a fearful child
who wanders in the labyrinth
through a sad fairyland deep in his head
across the slanting sketch of glances
here on the bulge of chalky cliff
for all paths even when resting still
mean for me a complicated cliff
whose slope leads down to the sea
vast sheet billowing in the frowns of wind
cloth spread like a catafalque
even now above the chasms
and I was walking along the promontory
where my father had stood before me
all those mornings ever the same
when his ghost passed through me
at the moment of the tide’s turning
which snatched the patient bodies in the ebb tide
I was kneeled there on the ground
I knew that soon my turn would come.
From: Art farouche
Ballad of a dead man
As I walked along the promontoryI noticed my father was standing there
at the same place as years before
and his ghost passed through me
while the raging sea was imploring
but it was so long ago now that I died
death inside death before and around
so long since I dragged my chains
over the ridge of this cliff beside the void
and that burden of the sky ever the same
weighing on my skeleton’s frame
to drag me into the precipices which haunt me
when I struggle at daybreak against my belly
all those mornings ever the same
with death who takes me by the hand
me, such a fearful child
who wanders in the labyrinth
through a sad fairyland deep in his head
across the slanting sketch of glances
here on the bulge of chalky cliff
for all paths even when resting still
mean for me a complicated cliff
whose slope leads down to the sea
vast sheet billowing in the frowns of wind
cloth spread like a catafalque
even now above the chasms
and I was walking along the promontory
where my father had stood before me
all those mornings ever the same
when his ghost passed through me
at the moment of the tide’s turning
which snatched the patient bodies in the ebb tide
I was kneeled there on the ground
I knew that soon my turn would come.
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