(the misadventures of an expatriate corporate dropout)

Sunday, March 22, 2009

le printemps.

all around the earth is rising from her slumber
limbs are bearing bud and tiny flowers
birds throatily greet the soft air
moist and dewy, the land flaunts her fertility
curves preening in the sunshine
prickles of green beckoning come hither

her skin is electric and alive like the spring
longing for a lover at arms length
devouring him when he's not looking
the cut of his tricep is mouthwatering
hazel eyes worthy of a swim
delighting in all the places, strong or soft
each tender act, a gift, a promise.

kindred gypsy spirits, edgy and afraid
fleeting hummingbirds, bound to fly away
dancing around the bond that is blossoming
convinced like the seasons, it may wither and wilt
bringing tears of disappointment, broken trust
doubting, hoping, longing for courage and love.

French translation (could a French speaker tell me how well this reads?)

tout autour de la terre se reveiller de son sommeil
les membres portent des bourgeons et de minuscules fleurs
oiseaux salue gaiement l'air doux
couvert de rosée et humide, le terrain affiche sa fécondité
lissage des courbes sous le soleil
piquants verts invitent venir ici

sa peau est électrique et vivante comme le printemps
désir d'un amant à distance
dévorant lui quand il ne regarde pas
la coupe de son triceps est alléchants
yeux noisette digne d'une nage
le bonheur dans l'ensemble des lieux, fort ou doux
chaque acte d'appel d'offres, un don, une promesse.

âme sœurs gitanes, nerveux et ont peur
colibris éphémère, lié à s'envoler
danse autour de la caution qui est en fleurs
convaincu, comme les saisons, il disparaîtra mai et le flétrissement
ce qui porte des larmes de déception, la confiance brisée
doute, dans l'espoir, le courage et la nostalgie de l'amour.


Randal Graves said...

I won't venture to correct your French translation, but in le troisièmre vers, you still have 'soft.' What about 'doux?'

Did you write this?

Non Je Ne Regrette Rien said...

oui monsieur, I missed that! merci bien...

I'm not much of a poet and translating my feeble poetry into another language may prove beyond my capabilities...

La Framéricaine said...

muscles. it's all weightlifting. just keep building those muscles, love.

(my word verification word was:
suck-it-io. no lie.)

Mrs C said...

Tough one. I don't think that I would attempt translating poetry on a good day. Bravo!

I can tell you that à la hausse is strange in the first line. Maybe "se reveiller" would be better?

Also? Glad you got the book. I've got a copy too but I'm not sure if I have the courage to read it in French myself...

Non Je Ne Regrette Rien said...

since the commentary were solely focused upon the grammar ... I'll accept the unspoken as a gentle reminder that my poetic muscles require additional labor ... MUCH additional labor.

le sigh. :P

Mrs C said...

I think we were all gobsmacked by the translation.

I'm not one for poetry. Personally. An unfortunate semester studying Elizabeth Bishop is probably the reason. I know, I know.... as a Canadian, I should have turned to Anne of Green Gables to get me over it.... Hélas. I did not.

However, that being said, it didn't even occur to me that you had written the original poem. I sort of thought that you had given yourself a lesson in translation. Which is so hard in itself. Writing poetry? Colour me gobsmacked again!