The elephant’s trunk
is for picking up pistachios:
no need to bend over.
The giraffe’s neck
is for grazing on stars:
no need to fly.
The chameleon’s skin,
green, blue, lavender, white,
as it wishes,
is for hiding from ravenous animals:
no need to flee.
The turtle’s shell,
is for sleeping inside,
even in winter:
no need for a house.
The poet’s poem,
is for saying all of that
and a thousand thousand thousand other things:
no need to understand.

 


En Français

La trompe de l’éléphant,
c’est pour ramasser les pistaches:
pas besoin de se baisser.
Le cou de la girafe,
c’est pour brouter les astres:
pas besoin de voler.
La peau du caméléon,
verte, bleue, mauve, blanche,
selon sa volonté,
c’est pour se cacher des animaux voraces:
pas besoin de fuir.
La carapace de la tortue,
c’est pour dormir à l’intérieur,
même l’hiver:
pas besoin de maison.
Le poème du poète,
c’est pour dire tout cela
et mille et mille et mille autres choses:
pas besoin de comprendre.
 
Wikipedia: Alain Bosquet

I’m out
Will she love me?
I’m still seeing honey sweet
You shout
“Don’t you leave me, don’t you leave this incomplete”

I wanna know if this road belongs
To my eyes and only mine

Then I go back and show my love
A heart attack I’m told, I should have known
No more nights alone, so cold
Let’s go back to sweet, honey sweet

I’m out
I heard a heavy creek behind my window, honey sweet
There’s no doubt
You still love me, you’d still love this incomplete

I wanna know if this road belongs
To my eyes and only mine

Then I go back and show my love
A heart attack I’m told, I should have known
No more nights alone, so cold
Let’s go back to sweet, honey sweet

Tear drops stains dries in thunder
Our two in pain, change my number
I’ve seen you two about it
Talked about rebounding

I go back and show my love
A heart attack I’m told, I should have known
No more nights alone, so cold
Let’s go back to sweet
Then I go back and show my love
A heart attack I’m told, I should have known
No more nights alone, so cold
Let’s go back to sweet

Honey sweet
Honey sweet
Honey sweet
Honey sweet
Honey sweet

river

I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn’t,
So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn’t a-been so cold
I might’ve sunk and died.

But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn’t a-been so high
I might’ve jumped and died.

But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I’m still here livin’,
I guess I will live on.
I could’ve died for love–
But for livin’ I was born

Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry–
I’ll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.

Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

dark

THE DAY is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

wild-geese

 

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

power-demon

“Not necessity, not desire – no, the love of power is the demon of men. Let them have everything – health, food, a place to live, entertainment – they are and remain unhappy and low-spirited: for the demon waits and waits and will be satisfied.”

Friedrich Nietzsche

snow-landscape_

 

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;–
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are;–a fairy tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.

candles
“I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”

Charles Dickens

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