Follow Me, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel's Suis-Moi By T Wignesan
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
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014
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