Monday, January 13, 2014

Jacques Bertin - The Non-Plea

Original Title: "La Non-Supplique"

I die with humor, I die modestly
I didn't even put on my Sunday's clothes
I am not of those grumpy embittered grandpas
I die without pretention, I look at the Loire
running in front of my house with naked children
At the sky with in its eye its last swallow

In this way goes my life away and my blood that falls asleep
Remain the big birds that are asleep under the leaves
Remains your long hair and the sun in the water

We live we do not know what, we do not know how
I don't know why, I do not know yet
I reached adulthood one morning by chance
I sold my youth to a fair juggler
I felt all my days pierced by air and birds
My life in me, my blood like a certainty

My life like a tooth eating of death
A big stupid happiness that got its wings caught
Here is the bridge that cracks and the dredge that groans

I tried but life, I would be slightly annoyed with myself
to kneel to lick its boots
I move away from the water, I go away everything is fine
I even forget to organise my chrysanthemums

At my wedding as well I was late
and on the sly I was caressing your buttocks
She died before me, that's too bad that's fine
It's my turn to move aside without speech without plea
Let the immortals talk to us about death

I don't care about death and marbles and flowers
I still live and I don't want to talk about it
I hear the pointy steps of women on the platform
I follow them I want them, it's you and I marry you
It's warm and the Loire stretches and spreads
I also drove on the left side at the time of the strawberries
Mouth drooling, I go where I fall asleep
I have lived my life full like a writing
and the last sentence isn't written yet
It's very late this evening and I am alone, I dream.

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