from My First Book in English

Julien Green

It is useless to tell me that a photograph does not lie, that it is an indisputable likeness of life itself; I can see no more in a photograph than the reflection of an absent person; And many of the novels we read are nothing but photograph albums.

from Anthologie de la poèsie française du xx° siècle

Claude Roy

Mais il faut qu'un poète les transmue en poésie pour que ce qui était indicible devienne dicible et dit.

°

But a poet has to transform in poetry so that what was unsayable becomes sayable and said.

Mouthwash

Kate Nash

This is my face
Covered in freckles
With the occasional spot
And some veins

This is my body
Covered in skin
And not all of it
You can see

And, this, is my mind
It goes over and over
The same old lines

And, this, is my brain
It's torturous analytical thoughts
Make me go insane

And I use mouthwash
Sometimes I floss
I got a family
And I drink cups of tea

I've got nostalgic pavements
I've got familiar faces
I've got a mixed-up memory
And I've got favourite places

And I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I hope everything's gonna be alright
And I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I hope everything's gonna be alright

This is my face
I've got a thousand opinions
And not the time to explain

And this is my body
And no matter how you try and disable it
Yes I'll still be here

And, this, is my mind
And although you try to infringe
You cannot confine

And, this, is my brain
And even if you try and hold me back
There's nothing that you can gain

'Cause I use mouthwash
Sometimes I floss
I've got a family
And I drink cups of tea

I've got nostalgic pavements
I've got familiar faces
I've got a mixed-up memory
And I've got favourite places

I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I hope everything's gonna be alright
And I'm singing "oh oh" on a Friday night
And I hope everything's gonna be alright
Oh oh oh oh oh oh:


courtesy

Between Degas and Mallarme

Degas: J'ai pourtant beaucoup d'idées.
Mallarme: Ce n'est pas avec les idées qu'on ecrit des poèmes, c'est avec des mots.

°

Degas: Though I have many ideas.
Mallarme: It is not with ideas that we write poems. It's with words.

Cet Amour

Jacques Prévert

Cet amour
Si violent
Si fragile
Si tendre
Se désespéré
Cet amour
Beau comme le jour
Et mauvais comme le temps
Quand le temps st mauvais
Cet amour si vrai
Cet amour si beau
Si hereaux
Si joyeux
Et si dérisoire
Tremblant de peur comme un enfant dans le noir
Et si sûr de lui
Comme un homme tranquille au milieu de la nuit
Qui les faisait parler
Qui les faisait bl^emir
Cet amour guetté
Parce que nous les guettions
Traqué blessé piétiné achevé nié oublié
Parce que nous l’avons traqué blessé piétiné achevé nié oublié
Cet amour tout entier
Si vivant encore
Et tout ensoleillé
C’est le tien
C’est le mien
Celui qui a été
Cette chose toujours nouvelle
Et qui n’a pas changé
Aussi vrai qu’une plante
Aussi tremblante qu’un oiseau
Aussi chaude aussi vivant que l’été
Nous pouvons tous les deux
Aller et revenir
Nous pouvons oublier
Et puis nous rendormir
Nous réveiller souffrir vieillir
Nous endormir encore
Rêver a la mort
Nous éveiller sourire et rire
Et rajeunir
Notre amour reste là
Têtu comme une bourrique
Vivant comme le désir
Cruel comme la mémoire
Bête comme les regrets
Tendre comme les souvenir
Froid comme le marbre
Beau comme le jour
Fragile comme un enfant
Il nous regarde en souriant
Et il nous parle sans rien dire
Et moi je l’écoute en tremblant
Et je crie
Je crie pour toi
Je crie pour moi
Je te supplie
Poir toi pour moi et pour tout ceux qui s’aiment
Et qui se sont aimés
Oui je lui crie
Pour toi pour moi et pour tous les autres
Qui je ne connais pas
Reste là
Là où tu es
Là où tu étais autrefois
Reste là
Ne bouge pas
Ne t’en vas pas
Nous qui somme aimés
Nous t’avons oublié
Toi ne nous oublie pas
Nous n’avions que toi sur la terre
Ne nous laisse pas devenir froids
Beaucoup plus loin que toujour
Et n’importe où
Donnes-nous signe de vie
Beaucoup plus tard au coin d’un bois
Dans la forêt de la mémoire
Surgis soudain
Tends-nous la main
Et sauve-nous.

copyright Paroles
_____________________________________________________________

Translated by Ashley Ayrer on January 18, 2008

This love

This love
So violent
So fragile
So tender
So desperate
This love
Lovely as the day
And awful as the weather
When the weather is awful
This love so true
This love so lovely
So happy
So joyous
And so derisory
Trembling from fear like a child in the dark
And as sure as him
As a calm man in the middle of the night
This love that frightens others
That makes them talk
That makes them pale
This threatening love
Because we threaten them
Hunted wounded trampled finished denied forgotten
Because we hunted wounded trampled finished denied forgot
This love completely full
So alive again
And completely sunny
It’s yours
It’s mine
He who was
This thing still new
And which has not changed
As true as a plant
As fragile as a bird
As hot as alive as the summer
We can, both of us
Go and come back
We can forget
And then we go back to sleep
We wake suffer grow old
We go to sleep again
Dream of death
We wake smile and laugh
And rejuvenate
Our love stays there
Stubborn as a jackass
Lively as desire
Cruel as memory
Stupid as regrets
Tender as a souvenir
Cold as marble
Lovely as the day
Fragile as a child
It watches us and smiles
And it talks to us without saying anything
And I listen to it trembling
And I cry
I cry for you
I cry for me
I beg you
For you for me for all those who have loved
And those who are loved
Yes, I cry to it
For you for me and for all the others
Whom I do not know
Stay there
There where you are
There where you were another time
Stay there
Don’t move
Don’t go
We who are loved
We’ve forgotten you
You have not forgotten us
We did not have you on the earth
Don’t let us become cold
Much further always
And wherever
Give us sign of life
Much later at the corner in the woods
In the forest of memory
Appear suddenly
Give us your hand
And save us.

Premier Jour

Jacques Prévert

Des draps blancs dans une armoire
Des draps rouges dans un lit
Un enfant dans sa mère
Sa mère dans les douleurs
Le père dans le couloir
Le couloir dans la maison
La maison dans la ville
La ville dans la nuit
La mort dans un cri
Et l'enfant dans la vie.

________________________________________

White linens in a closet
Red linens on a bed
A baby in its mother
Its mother in pain
The father in the hall
The hall in the house
The house in the city
The city in the night
The death in a cry
And the baby in this life.

Translated by Ash Ayrer (November 15, 2008)

AN ANTI-ENVIRONMENTALIST DRAFTS HIS NEXT NEWSPAPER COLUMN WHILE EATING TAKEOUT AND DRIVING HIS HUMMER

Benjamin Cohen

The good news is in: Plastics are great. Stop your bitching. I've been reading all the research and the problem is you. No, I'm not anti-environment; I'm anti-environmentalist. It's like that line, right? You shoot messengers?

This whole thing, I'm with crack reporter John Tierney, our friend at the Times over there debunking pointless concerns from Crocs-wearing pansies. Those alarmists have complained for years that unsightly gobs of plastic bags won't deteriorate for centuries. In landfills, in oceans, flying out of the garbage truck in front of me as I write this column on my PDA. Then they go and complain about the tiny, tiny chemicals inside, like this bisphenol-A thing they made up—chemicals they can't even see! Or pronounce! So which is it? Unsightly gobs or invisible fake chemicals? The environmental movement is riddled with these moral contradictions. That means we can all relax: plastics are good for us. Right now I'm eating General Tso's chicken out of a plastic container with a plastic fork using my non-PDA-typing hand. Knees are working the steering wheel, if you're wondering.

Which reminds me: food. For as long as humans have been alive, they have been eating food. Recent evidence from the national academies shows that animals also eat food. Many, I'm told, on a daily basis. We can either crank up the Radiohead, put on our dark sunglasses and long-sleeved T-shirts, and throw garbage cans at Monsanto GMO headquarters or we can get our next meal with the best modified genes science has to offer. By the way, as with bisphenol, You Can't. Even. See. Genes. What are they fighting against? Plus, a new study, conducted this past weekend on Dan and Marlene's new deck, shows that tofu dogs taste like crap.

Did you know that steering SUVs with your knees saves gas? Did I say that yet? It's harder to do in smaller cars, because leg room sucks. One more reason the anti-SUV hysteria is just that. Smaller cars also waste gas, because you have to drive them so much more to haul all your stuff. When we got our other SUVs, we could haul three times as much garbage to the river and twice as many recyclables, if we had them. But the Connie Cleanwaters don't want you to know that.

Also, mercury is good for you. Drink it up. At least one study (hat tip to John T.) found that mercury is our best way to determine the temperature of the earth. And yet tree huggers would have you believe that the earth is warming. Ironically, the only way they could know this is by using the same mercury-filled thermometers they apparently think are bad for you.

You don't have to worry about global warming anyway. Some are now arguing that what we lose in cooler temps we make up for with less spending on clothes. Bad news for Old Navy; good news for Americans and the environment. It all evens out economically, just like in that Seinfeld episode where everything always evens out. Can you believe that Kramer guy? What a racist!

Incidentally, racism is no longer a problem. They caught Kramer. And that one guy is running for president.

© McSweeney's, which is teh awesome.