Friday, February 24, 2017

Henri Gougaud - The assassinated poets


Original Title: "Les poètes assassinés"
"Between the teeth of the days a rose sparkles
In Praha with fingers of rains"
Nezval was saying that

It was in Nineteen thirty-six, in those times
Nazim Hikmet, the man from Orient, daffodil yellow hair
In Istambul was entering prison for thirty years
Lorda was losing his blood horns of moon at the forehead
And Desnos, mourning for mourning, like a very sweet bull
was on watch at the Pont au Change and have a foreboding of the wolves

"Between the teeth of the days a rose sparkles
In Praha with fingers of rains"
Nezval was saying that

And Miguel Hernandez in the penal colony of Alicante
was kissing the empty shoes and the dead people on the eyes
"We do not belong to a people of oxen"
Was he saying. He was singing some innocent splendor
He was singing for his son who had died of hunger at ten months
And on the rusty blood, wind of the people, his voice
was the rose with the hundred leaves to the peak of the mounts
Which was calling you with pride "Revolution"

"Between the teeth of the days a rose sparkles
In Praha with fingers of rains"
Nezval was saying that

One day, when the enormous belly of the facisms
Will be dry and infertile, another time will come
And the deads who do not rot will return
They will come down of the train, they will shake the ash
Of their seasoned old-fashioned clothes one morning
They will cry of joy in some spray of hands
Among the workers at the barely hatched dawn
With, in their blue fist, the vertical sun
Between the teeth of the days a rose sparkles
In Praha with fingers of rain where Nezval will sing


Jacques Bertin's version

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