Open Poetry #2 |
And Why Is the Winter... |
Soleil Member
since 1999-06-12
Posts 113 |
The use of our conversation Was like a missed location on a map Yet it lingers with no reserve Like the smell of three-day-old fish. Cigarette butts and empty paper cups Are reminders That the difference between Concrete, macadam and tarmac Is small, unless you are the architect. In French the pavement runs linear and Seems to have no end In Gaelic the words screech Upon the wind And can return at their convenience. The profile of poetry is both Luminescent in twilight And obscene and for sale. There is no guarantee. But I want no mindless cheap charity. As for our conversation: La jeune fille n'ecoute pas Les vieux hommes demanderons l'heure. Et qui est l'hiver Quand nous sommes le printemp? |
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© Copyright 1999 Soleil - All Rights Reserved | |||
Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
I think I like this. I wish I knew French. Would you mind interpreting for an unlearned but inquisitve mind? Thanks! ------------------ Denise |
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Soleil Member
since 1999-06-12
Posts 113 |
...translation, The young girl does not hear. The old men ask the hour. And why is the Winter When we are the Spring? |
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Wendy Junior Member
since 1999-09-10
Posts 16Vermont |
Ahhh, I love the part about the architect (wish I'd thought of that!) However, I'm proud and amazed that I DIDN'T need a translation. :-) |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Thanks for the enlightenment, Soleil. Yes I like this very much! I studied German and Spanish in school, but I've always loved the sound of French! So musical! ------------------ Denise |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
learn something new every day... love this write |
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