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Follow me, Translation of Piere Emmanuel’s Suis-moi by T. Wignesan

Everything begins on a morning like just another but 
        which becomes its own following day.
The next day of a common event of which in an instant
	nothing will be left.
But for the moment it’s still yesterday and each 
individual attends to his everyday tasks
The fishermen are on their fishing boats and the 
      énarques* go about fulfilling their important duties.
This happens to be a working day and not a holiday
	nobody can spare the time even if out there 
         somewhere there’s the sky
(But nobody either wants to take it for a Sunday so 
         long as the idea drags him down in the dumps.)
The way things are ordered by right is fine but to
         entertain doubts about it all leads to losing one’s 
         place 
Nothing therefore must ever transpire here but that 
         which must allow business to take place as usual.

Now, it’s always on such a morning whether 
          intentionally or not Jesus decided to go
Meeting Phillip on the way he said to him : Follow me !
	and Phillip obeyed him at once
Leaving behind the police and the banks and the 
         Industry and the National Education Ministry
And watching tv in the evenings in the bosom of the 
         family inculcates in us social wisdom.
Right at the moment they set off they caused the 
         the Great Big Shop to tumble down
Where at every moment things are bought and sold 
but not Life nor the eternal Next Day. 
These things are devoid of commercial value and 
therefore without price because they make a  
         present of themselves
And it’s just then that one realises that in the Shopping 
          Mall there’s absolutely no one about.


For a long time perhaps imprisoned in this Void one 
          has looked for the exit.
It’s also possible that one loses hope in this stasis and 
          in this frenetic state .
Yet without a lull dispelling the buffeting caused by the 
          hungry crowd by itself
In the distance close by mounting and somber the call
	of this irresistible and absurd : Follow-me !
If need be I’ll come out like a fetus ! the first born head 
         first !
The voice tugs at me in spite of myself that I may be 
         certain is my only prayer
Just as Jesus long before seeing Phillip saw Nathaniel 
         under the fig tree	
He looks at me this tomorrow all of a sudden yesterday has 
         ceased becoming endless.
Tomorrow arrives while my head is beyond all stuck while
	I am still
Sniffing the humid night with stars I strain towards my 
        daybreak
May this morning just like any other be the definitive 
        Today
May the dawn slice the Eastern Sky like one does with the 
        abdomen and may it cut open the flesh of the dead to 
        the Quick.
* énarques : A graduate of the elite higher education school in Paris, National School for Administration (Ecole nationale d’administration) which supplies candidates for the top administrative posts in government.
    
      (Tu, O.C. t. II, p. 627)

© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 16, 2014
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