Aurélia Lassaque
Prologue
She
All that follows is from profane memory
the poets reinvented everything
they needed a man
to upstage the gods
and, like any man
far from home
with much weeping
to curse the wine-dark sea
and tear at his face
when the poet died
ten took his place and rewrote the story
and so man created the myth
i nailed hope to the four walls of my cell
there is no land more vast than memory
i hollowed out its mountains, drained its rivers
searched among the stones of all its ramparts
waiting for my errant lover to return
the man who rallies your voices
endures your deliriums
and wears every mask
the man you call Ulysses
Proloog
Zij
Dit alles is van profane heugenis
de dichters hebben alles heruitgevonden
er was een man nodig
die de goden overtrof
en die als ieder mens
ver van zijn huis
zo vaak in tranen
de wijnkleurige zee zou vervloeken
zijn gezicht zou openrijten
toen de dichter doodging
hebben tien anderen zijn plaats ingenomen de geschiedenis herschreven
zo heeft de mens de mythe voortgebracht
Ik heb de hoop aan de vier muren van mijn cel genageld
er is geen weidser territorium dan dat van mijn geheugen
ik heb zijn bergen afgegraven, zijn rivieren geleegd
de stenen van al zijn muren omgekeerd
wachtend op de terugkeer van mijn barbaarse minnaar
de man die jullie stemmen verenigt
jullie wanen verduurt
en alle maskers draagt
de man die jullie Odysseus noemen
Prologue
Elle
Tout ceci est de mémoire profane
les poètes ont tout réinventé
il fallait un homme
qui surpasse les dieux
et qui comme tout homme
loin de sa maison
si souvent en larmes
maudisse la mer vineuse
se griffe le visage
quand le poète est mort
dix autres ont pris sa place et ont récrit l’histoire
ainsi l’homme a engendré le mythe
J’ai cloué l’espoir aux quatre murs de ma cellule
il n’est pas de territoire plus vaste que celui de ma mémoire
j’ai creusé ses montagnes, vidé ses rivières
retourné les pierres de toutes ses murailles
en attendant le retour de mon amant barbare
cet homme qui rassemble vos voix
endure vos délires
et porte tous les masques
cet homme que vous appelez Ulysse
Publisher: Bruno Doucey, Paris
Prologue
She
All that follows is from profane memory
the poets reinvented everything
they needed a man
to upstage the gods
and, like any man
far from home
with much weeping
to curse the wine-dark sea
and tear at his face
when the poet died
ten took his place and rewrote the story
and so man created the myth
i nailed hope to the four walls of my cell
there is no land more vast than memory
i hollowed out its mountains, drained its rivers
searched among the stones of all its ramparts
waiting for my errant lover to return
the man who rallies your voices
endures your deliriums
and wears every mask
the man you call Ulysses
From: En quête d\'un visage
Prologue
She
All that follows is from profane memory
the poets reinvented everything
they needed a man
to upstage the gods
and, like any man
far from home
with much weeping
to curse the wine-dark sea
and tear at his face
when the poet died
ten took his place and rewrote the story
and so man created the myth
i nailed hope to the four walls of my cell
there is no land more vast than memory
i hollowed out its mountains, drained its rivers
searched among the stones of all its ramparts
waiting for my errant lover to return
the man who rallies your voices
endures your deliriums
and wears every mask
the man you call Ulysses
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