This poem, Joke 3, has been taken from “And here’s the song” by Hélène Sanguinetti, and has been translated from the French by Ann Cefola.
JOKE 3
it is snowing today almostno one on the lane the boy makesa fire10 below, “no Wham doesn’t exist anymore, forthree years now that would be folly”but others—the same adherents interferewith their eyes eat snow mother powder bellyspread out
Behind the mountain there is a mountainand Wham goes out of his niche, the boy mistakenothers sleep spread out and the moss of theirbelly childlike softness
Too late means nothing when one is
living where it’s high and wide more than high
and wide more than wide
Traces of bear my children
still paint the sky with drops and
children cradled in the caves,
humble
Somersaulting and toppling over squares, It’s himAged of course sees himself in the smile of thedog spine-weary from movementlost snow does not age falls on thegroundwhiter than Ever existed
Whiteness collapsed under the squares
very small which means
no lone Whinenona of
squares
Kiss to the kingdom above
Kiss flown away to the gods
The wind pusher of snow or sand is beautiful,“always the same glinglin” hey whatever glinglin, isit is beautiful at the summit drawings of snow thecrusts the strips and on the sand over theretravelers looking at the entire world in its foldsand powder on the slopes that joltthe leopard the fallow deer
Girl decides herself→ and now enough, not at all
reluctant, our people11 in place and enough, barely Weeps
from the edge struggling almost at the edge one tear one
spring leaf she says,
tiny
So flowers of camels catch as they can
leaves and eat with bells the sun from afar, tear off
the tuft, in a circle
To stay inside you need some fresh fallen snow Soft,Asleep, sand flowing so orange with itsbreasts the evening wind, sea always immense seaunfathomable depth Everything becomes Peoplewithin
To stay chirping in the garden
and the sky trouble the watering can’s surface
to completely enter there, always how, from the poem!
A lot of errors, too many, belly or, too many,
body hairs, too many words, but lid of
the jar on the roadside Lifts
genius dances and sings, takes off the 2 bumps
♪♫♥☼ spring
And enters spring.
In the cabin. And there is spring.
Before it shines, it’s day that shines
Called Welcome, Charming, remember?
had curls and javelin, This is
Love who lives there, at the bottom,
it is, also bird, whistler, as bright
as day, all for joy and to Dancing
on the meadow, Turning and Striking the heel
until cooked and dropped
In the world there is this day and grassunder teeth and blood which shines and singsup in France from her neck to her temple aparade music, bassoon bugle, thetrucks parade on the road, Reeds,what are you doing on the side?Day says to day-the-rascal: stay, Needloveneed, Stay → the face enters the window
10: of crates
11: the girls
Photo by TD Lucas via Creative Commons.
