Melting Pot et vin blanc doux

6 mai 2020

Donnez le Si.

Donnez le si il pousse un if Jouez au bridge et le pont s’ouvre Engloutissant les canons les soldats Au fond, au fond affectionné de la rivière rouge Ah oui, les anglais sont bien dangereux. Ces quelques lignes sont une bricole magistrale de Boris Vian....

Posté par Marie Fox à 16:29 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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7 juin 2010

If there were a bird left...

She’d be here So heavy With iron guts And brass trimmings Tubes of water and fever She would run straight on her tracks Like death herself runs to war Like a shadow in an eye There is so much work in her So much skill holding the lime So much pain, so...

Posté par Marie Fox à 15:28 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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8 avril 2010

La complainte du progrès... The lament of progress.

Here is a first draft of this famous song of Vian. I'll try better when I have more time. The text in french can be read here, Before, to court a woman, One talked about love To better prove one’s heat One offered one’s heart But nowadays it’s not the...

Posté par Marie Fox à 08:37 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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8 octobre 2007

I want a fish bone shaped life

I want a fish bone shaped life Lying on a blue plate I want a thingamajig shaped life In the deep bottom of a contraption A hands-filled-with-sand shaped life In form of green loaf or jug In form of slabby slipper In form of faridondaine Of chimney sweep...

Posté par Marie Fox à 19:04 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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15 septembre 2007

One day

One day, There’ll be something more than the day Something franker that will be called Jode Something as translucent as rosin is That one will elegantly crimp in an eye There will be the auraille, crueler The volutin, more casual The summum, less never...

Posté par Marie Fox à 19:06 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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15 juillet 2007

Time to live

Time to live He rushed down the hill Stones were rolling under his feet Up there in between four walls The alarm was singing joyless He was smelling the scent of trees With his body just like a forge Light was flooding along with him Making of his shadow...

Posté par Marie Fox à 19:06 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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16 juin 2007

Arab Poem

We were screwing, when I saw the shadow of a tapir, Sweet love, rushing across your black pupil. I stood up, before he could blow a whisper I killed the insurgent of a gandoura stroke. This adventure took place on top of Mounts Chérif The monster was...

Posté par Marie Fox à 19:03 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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10 juin 2007

There is still enough

They’re breaking the world Into small pieces They’re breaking the world With a hammer blow I don’t give a dam I don’t give a dam There is still enough for me There is still enough Since I still can love A blue feather A sandy track Since I still can love...

Posté par Marie Fox à 19:14 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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30 mai 2007

I'll die of a cancer of the spine

Fist published in Swans http://www.swans.com/library/art13/xxx121.html I’ll die of a cancer of the spinal column It will happen on an awful evening Clear, hot, perfumed and sensual I’ll die of the putrefaction of some little known cells I’ll die of a...

Posté par Marie Fox à 19:05 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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25 avril 2007

One more

One more One without reason But since the others Are wondering the questions of others And answering them with the words of others What else to do Than write, like the others And hesitate And repeat And search And search again Not find Get stiff bored...

Posté par Marie Fox à 19:12 - Commentaires […] - Permalien [#]

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