Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Jacques Bertin - The blue lips


Original Title: "Les Lèvres Bleues"
Your blue lips, I said, like a lagoon, your painted lips
Opening sky on a meadow of mother-of-pearl, veined with streams
Your breasts, I said, I wanted meticulously painted, O saints
stone and moon colored and to mark your shoulder with birds' beaks

A pendant going down, heavy, by a thread from your belly
Like to the temple's facade as well: the man that had his throat cut,
Remember, and whose blood was a cover on the wandering dawn
You drank it, a faceless teenager was watching you.

Voices, thousand of voices, were binding you, were reading you evil and proud
You found back sacred words, lost, germinated. The night was turning
on its base until your price was set. Me, I was trembling
from fever, in the dark door at midnight rings the light

A motif of horses rearing, lacquered on the inner legs
bridles and thighs I want, picked up like a tear each
And you stamp, the bit in the teeth, puffing and panting, the tongue violent
The dance or the hate shooting, I want pearls of sweat

Your wrists are held at your waist, this castle
Is the one that has been drestroyed the axe in the hip
And your gaze, last one in the marble like a knife,
Broke and the blade is a wing in the white countryside

I've crawled in the sunken ships, the forest of foam or fawn
Wet collar against collar pushed the tapestry opening
infinitely the cavern of rain where gold is widow. The time
stops when it hears your laugh that is new and of a child.

I love you like a poor coming back from the holy wars
Head bare and begging from farms for a bit of bread
And each farm is a treasure it's true, laid in a hand
I love you like this, stay above the golden farms your painted lips
Your blue lips, like a laggoon, I've said, your painted lips.

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