Sunday, February 15, 2015

Jacques Bertin - The attic

Original Title: "Le Grenier"
Year: 1968
In the big attic of my soul
I smother very discreetly
I breathe but I have the mouth
Full of spiderwebs
I make big motionless steps
I shout but I do not hear myself

There is there a sticky warmth
In an indecent bric-a-brac
I see there Good Lords with manes
Coming out of hatboxes.
My revolutionnary friends
Run in circles bare-bottomed.

On the bicycle of my sundays
Comes a grocer with pompons.
Then a slightly too old woman
White belly and black stockings
Collapses among the shelves
On the knees of a senator

In a wedding dress my mother
Cries silently in a corner
between fashion plates
and the doilies of the christians
Dad is a pallbearer
And is holding the knees of the general

The aspergillums of the morale
And those of the revolution
Against a bare chested girl
The petticoat very low on the hips
Who would like to get me something to drink
And who is being tracked down in the books

I finally arrive at the window
But when I am going to come out to the day
I die stuck in the picture
Frozen in an immense smile
Right next to the passing time
That is waving me a big hello

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