Tag Archives: translation

She rumbles. Elle gronde.

She rumbles. I hear Nature. Silence and vastness break down the noise, hugging it in a whisper. Golden tow, smooth Crescent, void of sound, on an other plane. That short moment is a wedding.   Elle gronde. J’entends Nature. Vaste … Continue reading

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Tribute to the White Wolf

Version originale : Hommage au Loup Blanc. Each moment is a white wolf shedding tears of blood in an unfathomable abyss of tenderness. Red seas, Undiscovered, At the bottom of the immeasurable ravine. Look. Don’t think. Look at the white … Continue reading

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The Damned Canuck : a poem by Gaston Miron, English and French.

The way the images appear or burst in this poem: there’s something “rustic”, chaotic, unrefined about it; there is spontaneity, a strenght, an absence of pretention. There is emotion, sensitivity. It’s been written by a wounded bear. The poem conveys … Continue reading

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Une araignée d’étoiles. Stars, and a spider

Qui tient ma main et guide mes doigts le long des traits fins des astres comme une araignée saisie par la magie d’un mouvement tranquille doucement glisse sur les horizons d’un visage qui dort? Au sommet de mon crâne vit … Continue reading

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Émile Nelligan’s Winter Evening : Video of a new English translation of Soir d’Hiver (Comme la neige a neigé!)

I like Nelligan. Émile Nelligan. I always liked him.

His poem, “Soir d’hiver”, “Winter Evening”, is so suggestive, so magical, there’s an aura to it.

Some people repeat it or quote it almost like a mantra, I’ve seen it. Continue reading

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Srî Aurobindo, la prison d’Alipore, et son poème «Invitation» : nouvelle traduction française.

    C’est dans la prison d’Alipore, un quartier de Kolkata (Calcutta), au Bengale Ouest, qu’on enfermait les prisonniers politiques à l’époque de la domination britannique en Inde. «Jawahar Lal Nehru, Subhash Chandra Bose et Sri Aurobindo (Aurobindo Ghose) sont … Continue reading

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« Comme une bombe d’eau » means « like a water bomb »

 Crac !! Alive, curved, and slippery, the jar of time dropped down from on high like a water bomb on the rocky field. She still creaks and bursts with acute pleasure. Vivante, glissante et ronde, la jarre du temps est … Continue reading

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