Kim's song in French
Lent son du saxophone ; je m'allonge
et j'écoute les paroles du bon vieux temps,
quand Paris était à la mode,
et que le temps de l'amour est révolu
pour la vieille fille sirotant du vin
à la terrasse d'un café ; fixant,
sommes-nous, les yeux d'un tableau
pluvieux et coloré ; romantiquement
par le son frémissant du saxophone ;
ses notes flottant sur la Seine.
Gouttes de pluie grises, bleues et cerisiers en fleurs ; un sourire subtil sur des lèvres rouges,
rappelant la beauté et les heures passées ;
claquement de talons et belle robe.
Paroles et vocables posés et assurés
régularisent mon cœur, réchauffent mes pulsations.
Une voix fredonne, tandis que les doigts du phoniste s'agitent,
fourmillent tous les sens ; variateur de cabernet.
dans le silence d'un soleil levant
je crois entendre des voix et soupirs
reconnaître de vieux sourires
dans le calme d'un matin sous givre
je crois voir de doux regards
en berçant doucement l'ange qui dort
sous une lumière tamisée
je crois sentir le doux parfum
d'un amour renoué en juin
Translated from my poem IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN
The Crescent City
Ancestral roots are calling me
to Crescent City near the sea.
A city with its past displayed
where long ago the pirates played.
The glowing lights of Vieux Carré;
Café du Monde’s belov’d beignets,
and Creole foods prepared with flare;
it’s been so long since I’ve been there.
The Cajuns live life with pizazz
and everywhere sweet sounds of jazz.
These dreams are where I long to be,
this Crescent City near the sea.
December 19, 2022
Vieux Carré (pronounced VOO kah-RAY) translates to “old square “ in English. The French Quarter, the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans, is referred to as the “Vieux Carré.”
Beignet (pronounced bin-YEAH) is a French pastry.
Les vieux poèmes sont comme de vieilles chaussures
Que nous refusons de jeter au fond des fissures
Comme les vieilles pensées que nous ne pouvons pas ignorer
Ou les vieilles routes que nous aimons naviguer.
Les vieux poèmes sont maintenant très renommés
Comme de vieilles pantoufles confortables
Des témoins de nombreuses histoires autour de la table
Où grand-mère s'est assise autrefois avec fougue et en beauté.
Les vieux poèmes sont comme un vin raffiné
Ils s'améliorent à mesure que l'âge et le temps s'entremêlent
Et nous rêvons du bon vieux temps passé.
Les vieilles chaussures sont conservées au sous-sol
Pas trop loin des deux cheminées
Où sont situés les signes à louer.
Copyright © Février 2019, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
This is a translation of the poem 'Old Poems Like Old Shoes' by Hebert Logerie
IF YOU PULL A LONG BREXITING FACE : XLIV – 44
IF you pull a long-twisted Brexiting face
Pulled three more years by Santa Theresa May
« Eyes » to the Right and « Nose » to the Left gaze
Is the fate of phase after Letwin amendment delay
If you pull a long-pained Brexit-fixit-now face
Deal or No-Deal come yet what the Devil may
Scoff at Benn Act to be torn apart in court case
Set then precedence in Case Law if PM won’t obey
If you still keep pulling that long Back-Stop face
Stick foot in the slamming EURO door to stay
Le Vieux Continent put-off by antique grimace
Would Mary Queen of Scots excise Henry VIII’s UK
If you then pull the long borderless Irish face
Migrant mice will grow fat on illicit trade mellée
Till the microbiote in the innerns all borders efface
And the Brexit Isles will split asunder in dismay
Then if you pull the long put-together fallen face
Towed across the Atlantic moored as the 51st to allay
The fears of Norman Conquests taking over the States
Guess who foists upon the World the Union Jack – Hurray !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 19, 2019
ELLE REFUSE DE CHANTER
ELLE NE VEUT PAS
JOVER.
ELLE DOIT CHANTER !
ELLE DOIT CHANTER!
LA CHANSON DES VIEUX!
ELLE DOIT CHANTER !
DRAW THE CURTAIN
TURN ON THE LIGHTS
BEG MI LADY
CHANTER!
CHANTER !
CHANTER !
LA CHANSON DES VIEUX
CHANTER !
CHANTER !
CHANTER !
SHE MAKES PLANS TO BE THE FEATURED PERFORMER, WHEN THE SHOW IS ABOUT TO START, SHE BECOMES STUBBORN AND REFUSES TO SING. AFTER TEN MINUTES OF STALLING, THE EXCUTIVE PRODUCER OFFERS HER THOUSANDS MORE, IF SHE WOULD JUST SING, SHE BEGANS WITH SING A SOLO ACCOPELLO TO AMAZE THE CROWD. LATER, WEEKS LATER SHE ADMITTS TO BEING STUBBORN AS HER PRODUCER WOULD NOT RECOGNIZE HER TALENT, HER PLAN WAS TO DELAY THE SHOW FOR 15 MINUTES, BY STANDING STILL, IN FRONT OF THE AUDIENCE, BUT THE EXCUTIVE GIVES INTO HER, AND SHE BEGANS TO SING.
Not yet long into the night, a translucent mist hovers,
cold as it settles upon the fine hairs.
Runty knobs form along the exposed skin,
an insufferable chill has come to the Quarter.
Secured dwellings sheltering those from who prey in the dark,
prowling the vulnerable, pilfering life from the innocent.
Gas streetlights lay witness to this harrowing theater,
stretching shadows, slithering the alleys for a pristine morsel.
Moist from a recent offering, hunger demands fruition,
devouring the still beating heart prolongs one's existence.
Gnawing at the bone, consuming of the flesh,
ensuring nourishment 'til the next illuminating full Luna.
Before the dawn reveals this carnage of the night,
a solitary horse drawn cart wanders the curbs,
collecting the discarded remains of those ravaged,
harboring the rumors only locals know to be true.
Awaiting the ensuring engorged orb,
I endure, I thirst, I hunger.
Critique par la société
Seulement vue par sa beauté
Pourquoi doit-on ignorer
Son importance et sa nécessité
Sans elle nous ne serions pas la
Pour profiter de la vie et de ses joies
L'homme peut bien être muscle
Et être plus physiquement doué
Mais la femme mon cher ami
Il n y a rien de plus joli
Pour ainsi être précis
Je crois que je te l'ai deja dis
La femme , mon vieux
Est ce que Dieu a fait de mieux
(The husband of Henriette is in a casino, playing
roulette, and not especially concerned about her
plight. The Hotel Dieux is a hospital alongside
Notre Dame Cathedral, in downtown Paris.)
5. Joseph Caillaux
When? The chips are down. This is a marriage,
this black and red. Rien ne va plus, he said!
Let's go! We came here in a horseless carriage,
tonight we'll have the sidewalk for a bed.
(My little joke.) What's that you say, mon vieux?
The Tax Bill? That's how politicians play it.
(This wheel will put me in the Hôtel Dieu!)
A private confidence -- you don't betray it.
A public face (it can't be otherwise)
is oftentimes at variance with the private.
But Calmette's type are sneakers, peekers, spies,
would wreck a man (and frequently contrive it!)
Mon brave, I'm not the man to fight a duel.
You risk your life, your health, or prosecution --
for what? You lose, you're dead. You win, you fuel
the anger of your foes. It's no solution.
She said she would. (I'll spin, and win for us!)
I've long since left off thinking of it. (Thus!)
Death – Remember me Tomorrow
Votre amour est tout ce que j'implore
Angels took us from France's shores
To the promised land of lady liberty
Hollywood glitter enticing us lovers with mystery
Living the past in a cinematic telling
Ironic that love was sourly spurned
By Bogart’s charming quilted misgivings
Madeline, later would sadly sing
La Marseillaise, while lovers embrace
Paris after dark, they disappear with no trace
Trains to death and boats to freedom
As Casablanca tells of romantic tales
Je suis vieux, est je suis seul
The beautiful one misses the past and you
All the ships have sailed and gone
It’s the cemetery now where I rest under lawn
walking slow, oh it could be called dancing
crowded with Bourbon Street night people
music filling the air, we stop every so often
wrapped arms around each other and swayed
firing up to the already hot-blood New Orleans
seems to affect all the out-of-town tourists and
the nights are specially made for physical reaction
big easy, sin city, whatever, a city of cool coitus
her willowy body pressed so close to mine
her face in my neck nuzzling and groping
I feel her eyelashes teasing, pleasing, my neck
we're fused together with lover's super glue
she broke away, her café au lait eyes dancing
as she tiptoed up to speak softly in my ear
in her intense and absolute Cajun accent
sha, we gon stay out heah on da street all night
lovely Denise didn't need to say anymore
I danced her back to her pad above Galatoire's
and it wasn't just to get the grime off when
we showered with plenty of soap and water
Sweet breeze of memory come blow the dust of time, thats settled in the conscience of a
sleeping mind,
awaken long lost dreams, that fell along the way, scattered are the ashes, of the life I
threw away,
send the wind of change, that my cobwebs be dispersed, remind me of the verse I learnt,
unbroken,unrehearsed.
"Douce brise de la mémoire déverrouiller cette porte verrouillé, que je mai retour à la
visite, je vais vous rappeler une fois de plus"
Sweet breeze of memory unlock this bolted door that I may return to visit, I'll Remember
him once more.
Douce brise de la mémoire les heures passent vite, si je suis toujours à revoir Puis j'ai
besoin de revenir rapidement, mon corps est tellement fatigué, je me Sens très vieux, et
les secrets que j'ai caché loin maintenant nécessité d'être informé
Sweet breeze of memory the hours quickly pass, if I am ever to revisit, then I need To go
back fast, my body is so weary, I am feeling very old, and secrets that I hid Away need
now to be told!