Poems
(from the French)
Silvia Baron Supervielle
from L'eau étrangère (1993)
published in Bomb (New York) 81 (Fall 2002)
there beyond
blind
oblivion and
the strange
ocean
*
a sea lifts away
my eyes and a dream
gradually rubs out
my face
a ground carries off
my step and a sky
leaves my memory
in the void
the wind but a
wild wind strikes me
always in the same
place
*
now that
the star
descends
slowly
the well
filled up
*
here remains
forever
outside
of me
* * *
from Après le pas (1997)
without respite
I erect
a scaffolding
whose board
collapses
after the step
*
as much as the breaking
of the sea and the flashes
from the lighthouse that profane it
as the snow of the glacier
and the resonance of the abyss
as the winding of the river
straightened by its currents
as the suburban streets
and the leaning balconies
and the pen that pursues
its figures without support
I try to leap through
the masked impasse
*
I abandoned
my tongue
and I walked
a long time
even the rhythm
of my steps
I left behind
even the sound
of my silence
I lost
*
in every place
we will cut out
windows
to release
the light
from the walls
*
published in Poetry (Chicago) 177:1 (Oct.-Nov. 2000)
the more I lose
memory
the more I keep
this unknown
remembrance
*
he still remains standing
even if all is recumbent
the garden the sea the road
the dead youths carried off
by the river and the clouds
the foundations annihilated
by the uniform of the earth
whether he carves the balustrade
or lays down the terrace
whether he devotes himself to studying
the trees or the stars
whether he dreams or is watchful
or whether he gazes at the spines
of tall reserved books
he maintains that attachment
to his upright posture
where the slope is joined
to the fragile abyss
* * *
from Autour du vide (2008)
the void here conquered
by a void more
vast and more
lucid and full
launches its long
inhabited flight
*
as little
by little arises
into the eyes
of the child
sight
*
I’m used to seeing
through the gaps
in the iron railing
to listening against
the walls and the ground
to being the crystal
that encloses
the invisible
*
in the air with no
place or language
the absent words
of things
lean upon
the voice
*
whether I leave
for the most distant
land
whether I lose
the closest
image
I forsake
not the same
window
*
regularly
the circuit
that carries me off
prepares
for the final
race
*
again and again
I disengage myself
from the reflection
that the glass
hides
*
laying out
the cards
on the table
turning over
the changed
faces
*
a figure
on each
sheet
betokens
the number
of days
*
indecipherable signs
anemic bells
syllables dividing
the reflections from the surface
condemned to float
while the silent
breath of the gods
confirms the clear
assembled horizon
(from the French)
Silvia Baron Supervielle
from L'eau étrangère (1993)
published in Bomb (New York) 81 (Fall 2002)
there beyond
blind
oblivion and
the strange
ocean
*
a sea lifts away
my eyes and a dream
gradually rubs out
my face
a ground carries off
my step and a sky
leaves my memory
in the void
the wind but a
wild wind strikes me
always in the same
place
*
now that
the star
descends
slowly
the well
filled up
*
here remains
forever
outside
of me
* * *
from Après le pas (1997)
without respite
I erect
a scaffolding
whose board
collapses
after the step
*
as much as the breaking
of the sea and the flashes
from the lighthouse that profane it
as the snow of the glacier
and the resonance of the abyss
as the winding of the river
straightened by its currents
as the suburban streets
and the leaning balconies
and the pen that pursues
its figures without support
I try to leap through
the masked impasse
*
I abandoned
my tongue
and I walked
a long time
even the rhythm
of my steps
I left behind
even the sound
of my silence
I lost
*
in every place
we will cut out
windows
to release
the light
from the walls
*
published in Poetry (Chicago) 177:1 (Oct.-Nov. 2000)
the more I lose
memory
the more I keep
this unknown
remembrance
*
he still remains standing
even if all is recumbent
the garden the sea the road
the dead youths carried off
by the river and the clouds
the foundations annihilated
by the uniform of the earth
whether he carves the balustrade
or lays down the terrace
whether he devotes himself to studying
the trees or the stars
whether he dreams or is watchful
or whether he gazes at the spines
of tall reserved books
he maintains that attachment
to his upright posture
where the slope is joined
to the fragile abyss
* * *
from Autour du vide (2008)
the void here conquered
by a void more
vast and more
lucid and full
launches its long
inhabited flight
*
as little
by little arises
into the eyes
of the child
sight
*
I’m used to seeing
through the gaps
in the iron railing
to listening against
the walls and the ground
to being the crystal
that encloses
the invisible
*
in the air with no
place or language
the absent words
of things
lean upon
the voice
*
whether I leave
for the most distant
land
whether I lose
the closest
image
I forsake
not the same
window
*
regularly
the circuit
that carries me off
prepares
for the final
race
*
again and again
I disengage myself
from the reflection
that the glass
hides
*
laying out
the cards
on the table
turning over
the changed
faces
*
a figure
on each
sheet
betokens
the number
of days
*
indecipherable signs
anemic bells
syllables dividing
the reflections from the surface
condemned to float
while the silent
breath of the gods
confirms the clear
assembled horizon