July 30, 2014

POUR EUX

POETRY


Par les soirs bleus d'été, j'irai dans les sentiers,
Picoté par les blés, fouler l'herbe menue:
Rêveur, j'en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds.
Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue.
Je ne parlerai pas, je ne penserai rien:
Mais l'amour infini me montera dans l'âme,
Et j'irai loin, bien loin, comme un bohémien,
Par la nature, heureux comme avec une femme.
Arthur Rimbaud



July 7, 2014

L'ART EN GUERRE: Le Coup

POETRY


He said - It's you or me
I said - But no, it's you and me
The sky so big, the stars so many,
even on a tiny island would be space
for hundreds like us
even hundred emptyheads.
He took his wedding ring off his ring finger
- I am not afraid, in my time I sacked a few.
I was not scared but it was scary
I was still talking of blue seas and
little islands if need to be.
So we parted.
Then he went on talking it was the people.
The night full of stars didn't even blink
who dared?
The legions of dead soldiers couldn't.