The Captain had a penny whistle
Which he wore around his neck
And he played it every morning
As the crew danced on the deck.
Sometimes it was a Hornpipe
Sometimes a Palais Glide
As the crew danced fore and aft
And from Port to Starboard side.
Prompt every morning
When the Bosun rang a bell,
And if he was feeling frisky
The Captain danced as well.
Sometimes on sunny mornings
The crew would stand at ease
While the Captain and a subby
Mimed a decorous strip tease.
Rain storm hail or shine
Until twenty minutes passed
When on a given signal
The crew would climb the mast
To set the sails and rigging
And get the ship under way
And so it continued
Every single day.
Two or three times a year
All the ships would meet
And the Captain and his crea
Would dance for the fleet.
It was on the good ship Venus
Which had been a ship of shame
Until the Dancing Captain'
Gave it a better name.
He became the only Admiral to wear
A penny whistle around his neck
And even in his dotage
Would dance around the deck.
Ship shape and Bristol fashion
When she was away at sea.
Oh on the good ship Venus
Such a happy place to be
It was break time in the Jungle
The elephant took his chance
To ask the lady hippo
If she'd like to dance.
The Leo Lion Combo,
Sax drums guitar and bass,
Mightily played away
So music filled the space.
Twenty seven giraffe
Employed just for the night
Carried rigs to Illuminate
From their great height,
With strobes and spots
And dimmers and flash.
The Zebra formation troupe
Performed with zeal and dash.
The chimp in the corner
Made obeisance to the Gnu
As they joined the Palais Glide
Proceeding two by two by two.
The jungle buzzed and jived
During this daily break
Until the back to work buzzer
Was sounded by a duty snake.
The daily truce was over,
The Bush baby decided to beat it
Before some hungry carnivore
Tried to catch and eat it.
The tempo had been fast
The rhythm nice and loose
And the animals had enjoyed
Their daily pre lunch truce.
Back to normal in the jungle,
Twenty four hours to survive
Until the excitement of
The next daily Jungle Jive.
Bow to your partner
Then take your chance
To make good your escape
After the last notes of the dance.
De la croûte à la mie
Parvient l'essentiel de l'ambroisie;
De la préparation à la fourniture
Tournoie la belle tournure.
Miettes pêche en poudre,
Saupoudrées à la surface,
C'est son coup de foudre
Tout à votre chasse.
Taro, crème, lait, pêche bien assortis,
D'ensemble ouatées au sein,
C'était ce à quoi Euphrosyne mordit;
Sa joie se transmet à travers millénaire chemin.
Un bonbon chic au beau milieu,
Comme l'étoile la plus brillante au centre de cieux;
Volubiles velours au pourtours,
Comme l'entrain pour romance pour toujours.
Prenez-en une pincée
Et laissez caresser vos doigts par sa souplesse,
Prenez-en une bouchée
Et laissez adoucir votre palais par sa délicatesse.
Regardez-le souvent,
Que vous ayez la pêche permanente;
Savourez-le souvent,
Que la bonne santé soit à la suivante.
Ascension
Sous une brume matinale
je vagabonde les rivages
des souvenirs
à la recherche du passé
dans les lits de rivières desséchées
vestiges de jours écoulés.
La vie nous dirige
vers plusieurs sentiers périlleux
les idées enflammées de souffrance
en attente d’une deuxième renaissance.
Affranchi des chaines
en chair et esprit
convoitant la proximité
de l’être cher qui habite
le palais au-delà des cieux.
Hissé envers la luminosité
ultraviolette libéré de soi.
-traduction
* * *
Original poem written by Essama Chiba:
Lifted Up
In the morning mist
I stroll on shorelines
Of memories
Searching for the past
In dry river beds
Of yesterdays.
Life takes us down
Many paths near the edge
Mind afire in burning pain
Waiting for a second birth.
Emancipated from both
Flesh and spirit
Longing for closeness
Of a devotee that resides
In the mansion of the sky.
Lifted up in the luminosity
Of violet light freed from self.
-Essama Chiba
AP: 2nd place 2021 (for my translation)
Feet, do your stuff just one more time
Fandango round the Palais
Direct these poor arthritic bones
To dance that grand finale
My hair is lost, my teeth gone brown
I'm slowly going doolally
But c'mon hooves, you'll manage just one
final whirl with Sally
So steer these limbs around the floor
One last skeletal rally
A late rhapsodic flush to end
That tragic, final ballet
Ah we so crave the sanity
existence must be put in a box
thus we will do all
for such happiness in a box
a creation in ways
of akia
we will drive 100km for a box
building our Swedish dreams
gangnan style
thousands consuming meatballs
no bull
In this crowd I smile in loneliness
floundering close to the sea
Life seems to have fled
the light seems to grow dim
nightmares seep into my torso
I know there is not much time left
before I too am dropped in a box
I ponder
as white rose petals fall at the end of spring
would any lover come to me
take my one arm
as I walk my lobster
In the garden of insanities dream
oh sexy lady
where art thou?
Fairies rejoice and dance ballet
Scarlet brandishes the Pimpernel Palais
There are three of you, and I wonder now
For which do I fight, for which is my row (ra-ow)
For the past, where I lived so happy so free
I craved only moment, I gave all present me
I let it all bleed out moment at that time
I belayed all future, gave in to temp'ry mime
For present which really is my past
That soft dream I cradle fast
That friend I hold dearly rapt
Might not be my future, so precious wrapt
In my present see I future, perfect
Beautiful dream now here, flawless, democrat, elect
You here now are all for which I wish
Yet I cannot collapse, savor perfect dish
I dream of past, which was not sweet, sanguine
I live in present, easy, sublime
I hold out arms for future, believed, aligned
M which now passed, Mila gone into forever
R here in present, promising new life's lever
A for years fake future, sweet promise, alone never-never
You all call to me and I swivel my gaze
I know not which now I adhere to, my palais*
*palais - pronounced pa-laze, french, palace
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