Exercice de traduction : White America - Vite l'Amérique

Are you alive?
Êtes vous un livre?

What world do we live in?
De quel mot livrons-nous?

When still memes have more impact than pleadings
Quand c'est toujours les mêmes qui impactent nos leaders

14 janvier 2017

Posting a new post.

A l'avant moussaillonnnn! Cap à la proue!

La vie avance, elle n'a pas le temps qu'on s'arrête de vivre un moment, le temps d'écrire ou de profiter d'un trou noir, quand on est comblé, on a le temps de rien!

Sooooo... what have you been up to lately?

Well... thanks for asking.

From one summer to another, there may be dark and cold winter, but my every-day life has found its own sun, its own heater. When a person becomes so dear, so tender, so bright and so hot towards another, reciprocity soon turns it into euphoric happiness... And love happens. And that's my treat, everyday since last summer.

I once thought I was travelling so much, in a way, to look for love. Then it came to meet me in my hometown... and I started to travel even more!! We are, indeed, looking for something, in the sense that Jack Kerouac uses to describe starting a journey, as opposed to looking at something.

Looking for what? Another humanity? No humanity at all? A better world? While we admire the wonders of our blue, very blue planet?
Maybe just, be away from home. Dream of a different spot ("Toujours être ailleurs"). Bring the stories and memories back with you and share it with those who havent experienced that, and better: share memories with the people with whom we have been travelling! It surely brings a lot of smiles to the faces.

Or maybe, I just want to skate all the extraordinary parks/spots I can encounter along the way, and continue to enter into the local's twisted minds.

You, reader, can also try another perspective...

Meet the others and know yourself...

This is not a key to happiness, just a way out of your own vanity...

Admire

J'écoute des voix perturbées

Je prend mon temps.

Je crache mes idées en fumée

Je rêve de vies déjà mortes...

Topographique

Elle me prendra.

Le froid, le Nord.

Plus haut, plus loin.

Il pleut sur nos vies.

His(toit)re

L'histoire se rappelle à moi.

Où vais-je?

Où est l'ennui?

Qui est-il?

Friends.

Love.

Fall.

French earplugs, bench dream blogs

Away from Norway:

To the city of lights

To the pity of fights.

Center of emotions.

Blender of devotions.

Quelque part au-dessus de la Mer du Nord.

Du cimetière. Père Lachaise.

Les tombes s'entrechoquent

Avec les corbeaux en guise de gardiens,

De l'ambiance pousse une époque

Entre les arbres, gérants du bien...

Anonyme entre ces grands

Qui font France et occident fade

Je m'enfonce doucement

Dans la peau d'un ermite nomade...

Oslo Hwy

Tough choices

Long chorus

No core thus

Two voices.

Ode to Sweden

To the lack of feeling,

To the loss of options.

Where hills meet,

Versatile minds collapse.

Here and there,

Yonder and later:

Drums, drums.

La suite: Ad Hoc.

Une porte vers le monde,

Attente d'un ailleurs intemporel.

Dans mes oreilles ces ondes

Qui me font embrasser le ciel.

Sorti d'une cage de fraises,

Dans l'amour d'une escapade,

Je vole des pieds de chaise

Et me plonge dans la mascarade.

31 mars 2010

Inner Mention

Perceptual notions... or experienced interpretation

Dead people don't love

I walk in a cemetery

Feet bounce on a dove

Lead by the fairy mystery

Of bones and blood,

They track you in the end

Till drowning in flood,

Your snake is sent

Away like crawling eggs,

Shivering pain through eyes

You will sing for sex

Inside a body that dies.

Vaporizing thoughts and mottos

While sitting on a bench,

Looking for an ancient mojo

Picturing only a wench.

I can not wait to be voyaging.

Arrivée d'un train en gare

Among the travellers, I stand.

I watch the tracks and the perspective of where they come from. I cannot yet tell where it goes...

The smoke of the locomotive slowly invades my vision. The numerous cars suddenly become clearer.

The travellers aline one by one like a clock ticks and tacks.

The train is on time at the Lyon station...

It stops. Chaos follows. The inbounds mix with the outbounds. I can not see the tracks, only mix of women's hats, luggage, lovers kissing and kids running.

Where am I?

I'm petrified. Inside this busy movement of the masses, I stand and am observed by curious eyes.

Who am I?

It's too late.

Mémoire

Je ne t'en veux pas

Je ne te vois pas

J'ai oublié,

Qui tu étais

Lis-moi

Ignore-moi

Rends-toi heureuse

Je voudrais juste te voir

Juste pour te dire aurevoir.

Mais tu as décidé

De ne rien refermer

J'ai oublié

Qui tu étais

Non c'è

Jouons à nous détruire

Jouons à nous enfuir

Les pyramides célèbrent notre voyage

Demain je me réveillerai

Les temples invoquent notre peur

Hier je me suis perdu dans le noir.

Writers escape the truth,

Readers turned into sheep recall our furious love for the scary unknown.

Lovers sweat and call upon.

Dreamers shiver to the loss of pain!