TREASURES

OF THE NIGHT

The Collected Poems

of
JEAN GENET

Translated by Steven Finch

Drawings by Bill Sullivan

Gay Sunshine Press

San Francisco
Firsc edicion 1981
English cranslacions copyrighc © 1981 by Sceven Finch.
All righcs reserved. Excepc for brief passages quoced in a newspaper,
magazine, radio or celevision review, no pare of this book may be repro­
duced in any form or by any means, eleccronic or mechanical, including
phococopying and recording, or by any informacion scorage and retrieval
syscem, wichouc permission in writing from che publisher.

"Le Condamne a More" from CF.uvres Completes (Gallimard, Paris), Tome

II ( 1951). "Un Chane d'Amour" from CF.uvres Completes, Tome II. "Le
Pecheur du Suquec" from CF.uvres Completes, Tome III (1953) © Edicions
Gallimard
"Marche Funebre," "La Galere," and "La Parade"© L'Arbalece 1948
Cover design and incerior drawings by Bill Sullivan
Back cover phoco of Genee copyrighc © 1976 by Richard Avedon. Re­
princed wich permission
Library of Congress Cacaloging in Publicacion Dara:
Genet,Jean, 1910-
Treasures of che nighc.

English and French on facing pages.

I. Finch, Sceven. II. Tide.
PQ2613.E53A24 841'.912 80-25314
ISBN 0-917342-75-5
ISBN 0-917 342-76-3 (pbk.)
Gay Sunshine Press, P.O. Box 40397, San Francisco, CA 94140
TREA S URE S OF THE NIGH T
Cover of rare first edition of Jean Genet's Poemes (L'Arbalete, 1948)
 Publisher's Note
"Le Condamne a Mort" was written in 1942 while Genet was still in
Fresnes prison. It was first published, along with .. Marche Funebre,"
in Chants Secrets (L'Arbalete) in Lyon, 1945· "La Galere" first ap­
peared in La Table Ronde, 3e Cahier, 1945, under a dedication to
Nico Dakis. The earliest printing of "Un Cham d'Amour" seems to
be that in View (Paris), vol. vi, nos. 2-3, March-April 1946. The
above four poems, together with .. La Parade" and ''Le Pecheur du
Suquet," were published in Poemes (L'Arbalete, Lyon 1948) in a
limited edition of l ooo copies. This was reprinted in a trade edition
by L'Arbalete in l 962. Gallimard published three of these poems
(see copyright page) in 1951/53 in <Euvres Completes de]ean Genet,
with some modifications in the text.*
The present version follows the 1948/1962 Arbalete edition for
"Marche Funebre," "La Galere," "La Parade," and "Le Pecheur du
Suquet" and the 1951/53 Gallimard edition for "Le Condamne a
Mort" and "Un Chant d'Amour," with several slight modifications
taken from the L'Arbalete edition. The title "Treasures of the
Night" comes from Genet's poem "Le Pecheur du Suquet"; see
page 108. This new translation has been authorized by Jean Genet
and Gallimard.
• • •

In a conversation with Jean-Paul Sartre, Genet described how he

happened to write his first poem, "Le Condamne a Mort":
"I was pushed into a cell where there were already a number of
prisoners in civvies (so long as one is only on detention, one is
allowed to hang on to one's two-piece suit). As far as I was con­
cerned, although I had put up an appeal, I had been required, by
mistake, to put on convict uniform. This unexpected garb seemed
an evil omen; I was treated with contempt; and later I had a hard
job to get back into the swim. Now, among them, there was a pris­
oner who used to write poems to his sister-idiotic, whining things
that everybody admired immensely. Finally, in exasperation, I de­
clared that I could write stuff like that as well. They challenged me
to prove it, and so I wrote 'Le Condamne a Mort'; I read it to them
one day, and their contempt for me only increased; I finished the
reading in a storm of jeers and insults, and one of the prisoners said
to me: 'Poems like that, I toss off every morning.' When I was re­
leased, I made a particular point of finishing off this poem, which
was the more dear to me as it had been the more insulted."

*Information in this paragraph is taken from the Bibliography, pp. 321-323, in

Richard Coe's The Vision ofjean Genet, Grove Press, New York 1968.
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFA C E

Treasures of the Night is a bilingual collection of Jean Genet's

poems for the first time in English translation. If I have
translated these poems, it has been not only for my personal
pleasure and enrichment, but also for their artistic and social
merit-merit in that they take part in a neo-baroque
movement, a reflection of our times, and that they form a
rich contribution to the expression of the gay movement
and spirit. In his critical essay, Saint Genet, Jean-Paul Sartre
wrote: "I have said that 'true' poetry is untranslatable. But
note how close these lines are to prose; they must be trans­
lated since they ask to be understood."
In a framework <Of traditional French versification, the
eternal and universal themes of poetry and prose, life and
death, love and indifference, water and earth, day and night,
reality and illusion are reunited and reevaluated, leading the
reader along a spiritual road of discovery and enlight­
enment, where the blindman sees and the loser wins. In
recreatin g Genet's style and in conveying his message in
English, I have translated these "perfect, tidiable pieces of
disordern (Auden) as faithfully as possible.
I would like to express here my most sincere gratitude to
Jean Genet/Editions Gallimard and to Winston Leyland /Gay
Sunshine Press as well as to E. A. Lacey and W. Gunn for
their cooperation in this enterprise.
Special thanks and dedication is due to my parents, for their
understanding, and to M.L., mi lucero, mon lapin, my love.

STEVEN FINCH
Switzerland, 1980
 C ONT ENT S

Le Condamne a Mort 9
The Man Sentenced to Death

Marche Funebre 33
Funeral March

La Galere 57
The Galley

La Parade 79
The Parade

Un Chant d'Amour 89
A Song of Love

Le Pecheur du Suquet IOI

The Fisherman of the Suquet

 ; .· · . �, .,_.I
I ::('• . , ,·�
� ..
.
·: " . .. ...... , . ..

��
1,.at-�;.:
· ·:,,./�I ��
.

� · •
�� t!'
�·· � · ·� ··.· :11·...�
·-·6:' •1f'� -l,"--· � .
...
•.
.. . . , .,. .,. •1f •
•'l-

��t. ·
.

� ... .

·�� '>:j
:" .
• If";"'.. :1 �

� . .•..
•
� · ••,!. - :'. ..�.. ..
·
�� · •\- •

··��-� -�
• •

"' · · . . . .. ..
. .. �
.. ·· � "·� .�. . �
-• .

. ��·�
.
-.;•. I

:, >-· .
•
, . , .. . : ...
..
·. ,
·� •
.. . . . . '- ... .

,-
-...
.� 4 .· ,,. ; • . ·�·· ·. .. . .... , ....
.

. . .. .. ..··�..
�
·
.....
.

�l.·
..
·i .. .. .
..
. ....
-. •
•• • . •
..••
. .. .

·
�� -··
.

· • -• .
.,. . . . . ,
. • .�' i J�� ,..,�··
• r•·

�·.··'�.:
•'

· ,l
.. .. :"' ��("
.. ,# . .. ..� • ••
.. . , •. . .. . ..
•'
' ' • •• ..
·
•
• •• •
. .
.
• •.
. . -, � . . . ,,, �: 1\11'

••
•
".-r1 • • • • • "" .• •
•• . �
. • • •
. •• • • ••

•
• .
. • • •
. ·� ,.
•
•
• •
't It...
. .
..� ....
• .
• . .

..
.

•
.
•
• • •
• '
. .
.
: •
'·
•• •
·--� ·-. '
-r ·
. •
..
. •
�.
•

..... ., . • ' ._ .,

•
. .
. . .... �,.
• •

•
•
•• • •
•
• • •
•
• . . �·, . . .. . .
.
. .. . . . • • • ...!

. ,,,. ·.
, •
.
..
• •••
•
.•, .• • , .. . ..
• •

� . .. . • . :
•

.
.
'.•
.
•
•
• •
. ,
.
•
'•
•
• • • •
••
.
•
• . .
,
,
•
. ...
, ,
.. �"' • • ••
•
• ,,
. .·.,,,.. .
.
. •
• •
• • • • •
�. ·,�.,
... . ...
.. ""
.
• •••
.
.. . , .

.
., • • ••

..
. . ..
.
. .
•
• • • • .. •
.
. '
..
t •• • • ••
• •
••
• • :
•
. •I'.
'
• •

.
•
, � ,..,"·
•

:: ,,�··� ',I,/
'�J�f'
• • •
.
. .
. . •. . ,. • ••
: .. . ,. .
' '
•
. ..... . ..
•
· .• ; ... ·:'*· •

..,�. · · .....
. .
• •• • 'i • ' # r
•
� ··•..-:•. •
._•,',,,.
• ,. ,.. • I •
. .
. : .
·
. .
• J"i
' . . ..
.. ,.• •�
•
.. .. . . .. . .
•
. . ..... ·""·
. ....... . \• .
.. ·"· �.
•
-- .

.
i
••• • !'11 ,
•• ...
• • . .•.••. .. ,, . .
... .
. . ...
,. . , �
.
Ila • •• .. ...
,. ·' �
-� • •• ... . , . .
... � :J• •.•
•
•
• •
"•• .••• ••• . . .,
.....
.
. ...."\
•• •
�
.�

•• ' •' �
I
··· � �-.. t�·
. . ..
•
·' v •

··��,..
I• .. . t ••
•• t.i'l"i .. ... . ···�·· '
. • •
.... . •• , 1
• II
•
�- l'P. ... . �·"

a �,.�
•
•
:...�··�

fdr-·;r;
-

��.,
..-:--�... _,
..
I
�
!tAJllit�
..
·����
'·
:,,
•
.
LE C OND A MNE A M O R T
a.
Maurice
PILO RGE
assassin de
vingt ans

TH E M AN
SENT ENC E D T O D E ATH
for
Maurice
P ILO RGE
a twenty-year-old
murderer
IO I Le Condamne a Mort

LE VENT qui roule un creur sur le pave des cours ,

Un ange qui sanglote accroche dans un arbre,
La colonne d ' azur qu'entortille le marbre
Font ouvrir clans ma nuit des portes de secours.

Un pauvre oiseau qui meurt et le gout de la cendre,

Le souvenir d'un reil endormi sur le mur,
Et ce poing douloureux qui menace I' azur
Font au creux de ma main ton visage descendre.

Ce visage plus dur et plus leger qu'un masque

Est plus lourd a ma main qu' aux doigcs du receleur
Le joyau qu'il empoche ; il est noye de pleurs.
11 est sombre et feroce, un bouquet vert le casque.

Ton visage est severe : ii est d'un patre grec.

11 reste fremissant au creux de mes mains closes.
Ta bouche est d 'une morce oil tes yeux sont des roses,
Et ton nez d 'un archange est peut-etre le bee.

Le gel etincelant d'une pudeur mechante

Qui poudrait tes cheveux de clairs astres d 'acier,
Qui couronnait ton front d 'epines du rosier
Quel haut-mal l'a fondu si ton visage chance ?

Dis-moi quel malheur fou fair eclacer con reil

D'un desepoir si haut que la douleur farouche,
Affolee, en personne, orne ta ronde bouche
Malgre tes pleurs glaces, d'un sourire de deuil ?

Ne chance pas ce soir les Costauds de la Lune

« ».

Grunin d 'or sois plutot princesse d'une tour

Revant melancolique a notre pauvre amour ;
Ou sois le mousse blond qui veille a la grand'hune.
 Sentenced to Death I 1 1

THE W I N D rolling a heart along the pavement of the courtyard,

A sobbing angel caught in the branches of a tree,
The column of azure that marble entangles
Make emergency exits open in my night.

A poor bird dying and the taste of ash,

The memory of an eye sleeping on the wall,
And this aching fist threatening the sky
Make your face come down into my hand's hollow.

This face harder yet lighter than a mask

Weighs more in my hand than the jewel just pocketed
By the fence's fingers; it's drowned in tears.
It's dull and fierce, a fresh bouquet covers it.

Your face is stern: it's the face of a Greek shepherd.

It lies quivering in the hollow of my fist.
Your mouth and your rose-like eyes are a dead woman's,
And your archangel's nose is maybe the beak.

If your face sings, what great evil melted

The glittering frost of a wicked modesty
That powdered your hair with bright stars of steel,
That crowned your forehead with thorns of the rosebush ?

Tell me what mad sorrow shatters your sight

With such great despair that the ferocious pain,
Gone mad, personified, decorates your round mouth
Despite your frozen tears, with a mournful smile ?

Don't sing "Bullies of the Moon" tonight.

I nstead, Golden boy, be a princess in a tower
Dreaming gloomily of our poor love;
Or be the blond deckboy standing watch up in the crow's nest.
I2 I Le Condamne a Mort

II descend vers le soir pour chancer sur le pone

Parmi les macelots a genoux er nu-cece
L' Ave Maris scella
« Chaque marin cient prete
».

Sa verge qui bandit dans sa main de fripon.

Et c'est pour c'emmancher, beau mousse d'avencure,

Qu'ils bandent sous leur froc les matelocs muscles.
Mon amour, man amour, voleras-cu les des
Qui m'ouvriront le ciel OU tremble la mature

D' OU tu semes, royal, les blancs enchancemencs,

Ces neiges sur man page, en ma prison muerce :
L'epouvante, les marts dans les fleurs de violecce,
La mart avec ses coqs ! Ses fan tomes d' amancs !

Sur ses pieds de velours passe un garde qui rode.

Repose en mes yeux creux le souvenir de coi.
11 se peut qu'on s'evade en passanc par le coic.
On dit que la Guyane est une terre chaude.

0 la douceur du bagne impossible et lointain �

0 le ciel de la Belle, 6 la mer et les palmes,
Les matins transparencs, les soirs fous, les nuics calmes,
0 les cheveux tondus er les Peaux-de- Sacin.

Revons ensemble, Amour, a quelque dur amant,

Grand comme l'U nivers mais le corps cache d' ombres.
11 nous bouclera nus dans ces auberges sombres,
Entre ses cuisses d' or, sur son vencre fumant,

Un mac eblouissant taille dans un archange

Bandant sur les bouquets d'reillets et de jasmins
Que porteront tremblants tes lumineuses mains
Sur son auguste flanc que ton baiser derange.
 Sentenced to Death I 13

He comes down onto the deck cowards evening

To sing. the "Ave Maris Stella" among the sailors
Bareheaded and kneeling. Each ready sailor
Holds his throbbing cock in his hoodlum hands.

They're waiting co fuck you, cabinboy of adventure,

And chat's why these beefy sailors have hardons in their skivvies.
My love, 0 my love, will you steal the keys
That will open for me the sky where the masc wavers

From where you sow, royally, the white enchantments,

This snow on my page, in my silent prison:
The dread of it, the dead among the violet blossoms
Death with her roosters ! Her phantom lovers !

A prowling guard walks by on velvet feet.

The memory of you settles again in my sunken eyes.
We can make an escape over the roof.
I 've heard chat Guiana is a hoc country.

0 the sweetness of Devil's Island hopeless and distant!

0 the s ky of such beauty, 0 the sea and the palmcrees,
Transparent mornings, mad evenings, calm nights,
0 the shaven heads and the satin skins.

Lee's dream together, Love, of some cough lover,

Big as the Universe and his body stained with shadows.
He'll scrip us and lock us up in chose gloomy cells,
Between his golden thighs, on his smoking stomach,

A dazzling pimp carved from an archangel

Working it up over the bouquets of carnations and jasmines
That shake when your glowing hands cake chem
To his prized thigh, excited by your kiss.
14 I Le Condamni a Mort

Tristesse dans ma bouche ! Amerrume gonflant,

Gonflant mon pauvre creur ! Mes amours parfumees
Adieu vont s'en aller ! Adieu couilles aimees !
0 sur ma voix coupee adieu chibre insolent !

Gamin, ne chantez pas, posez votre air d' apache!

Soyez la jeune fille au pur cou radieux
Ou si tu n'as de peur l'enfant melodieux
Mort en moi bien avant que me tranche la hache.

Enfant d 'honneur si beau couronne de lilas !

Penche-toi sur mon lit, laisse ma queue qui monte
Frapper ta joue doree. Ecoute, ii te raconte,
Ton amant l 'assassin, sa geste en mille eclats.

11 chance qu'il avait ton corps et ton visage,

Ton creur que n'ouvriront jamais les eperons
D'un cavalier massif. Avoir tes genoux rands !
Ton cou frais, ta main douce, o mome avoir ton age !

Valer, voler ton ciel eclabousse de sang

Et faire un seul chef-d'reuvre avec les marts cueillies
<:a et la dans les pres, les haies, marts eblouies
De preparer sa more, son ciel adolescent . . .

Les matins solennels, le rhum, la cigarette .. .

Les ombres du tabac, du bagne et des marins
Visitent ma cellule ou me roule et m'etreint
Le spectre d 'un tueur a la lourde braguette.
 Sentenced to Death I r5

0 such sad ness in my mouth! Bitterness that's bulging,

Bulging my humble heart! My perfumed loves
Are leaving, farewell! Farewell, beloved balls !
0 with m y broken voice , farewell, insolent prick !

Stop singing, kid, put your side-street manners aside !

B e the young girl with the pure radiant neck,
Or, if you d are , be the child of lovely lyrics
Dead within me long before the axe chops off my head.

Fair child of honor crowned with lilac !

B end over my bed, let my rising cock
Smack your golden cheek. Listen, your killer lover
Is telling you his story in a thousand explosions.

He's singing that he once had your body and your face,
Your heart that a massive rider's spurs
Will never open, 0 to have your round knees !
Your cool neck, your soft hand, 0 kid to be your age !

To take, to take your blood-splattered sky

A nd to make a single masterpiece with the dead
Gathered here and there in the meadows, the hedgerows,
deaths dazzled
From preparing his death, his teenage heaven . . .

Solemn mornings, rum, cigarettes . . .

Shadows of tobacco, of jail and sailors
Visit my cell where the ghost of a killer
Turns me over and squeezes me against his bulging basket.
r6 I Le Condamni a Mort
LA CHANSON qui traverse un monde tenebreux
C'est le cri d'un marlou porte par ta musique,
C'est le chant d'un pendu raidi comme une trique.
C'est l'appel enchante d'un voleur amoureux.

Un dormeur de seize ans appelle des bouees

Que nul marin ne lance au dormeur affole,
Un enfant reste droit, contre le mur colle.
Un autre dart boucle clans ses jam bes nouees.

]'ai tue pour les yeux bleus d'un bel indifferent

Qui jamais ne comprit mon amour contenue,
Dans sa gondole noire une amante inconnue,
Belle comme un navire et morte en m'adorant.

Toi quand tu seras pret, en arme pour le crime,

Masque de cruaute, casque de cheveux blonds,
Sur la cadence folle et breve des violons
Egorge une rentiere en amour pour ta frime.

Apparaitra sur terre un chevalier de fer

Impassible et cruel, visible malgre l 'heure
Dans le geste imprecis d'une vieille qui pleure.
Ne tremble pas surtout devant son regard clair.

Cette apparition vient du ciel redoutable

Des crimes de 1' amour. Enfant des profondeurs
11 naitre de son corps d'etonnantes splendeurs,
Du foutre parfume de sa queue adorable.

Rocher de granit noir sur le tap is de laine,

Une main sur sa hanche, ecoute-le marcher.
Marche vers le soleil de son corps sans peche
Et t'allonge tranquille au bard de sa fontaine.
 Sentenced to Death I r7

THE SONG traveling through a gloomy world

Is the cry of a pimp carried away by your music,
The song of a hanged man stiff as a rod.
It's the enchanted call of a thief in love.

A sleeping sixteen-year-old calls out for a life j acket

That no sailor throws to the panic-stricken sleeper.
A child stands upright, stuck fast to the wall.
Another sleeps curled in his own knotted legs.

I've killed for the blue eyes of a fair heartless one

Who never understood my confined love,
In his black gondola was an unknown lover,
Whose beauty was a ship's and who died adoring me.

When you are ready, armed for the crime,

Masked with cruelty, helmeted with blond hair,
To the brief and crazy cadence of violins
For your sake cut the throat of an annuitant in love.

A knigh t of iron will appear on earth,

Impassive and cruel, visible despite the time
In the imprecise gesture of a weeping old woman.
Don't shake whatsoever when he glares at you.

This apparition comes forth from the awesome sky

Of love's crimes. Child of the depths
Astonishing splendors will be born from your body,
Perfumed cum from your charming cock.

A rock of black granite on the woolen carpet

With a hand on his hip, listen to him walk.
Walk towards the sun of his body free of sin
And stretch out quietly at the edge of his fountain.
18 I Le Condamne a Mort
Chaque fere du sang delegue un beau gar�on
Pour soutenir l' enfant dans sa premiere epreuve.
Apaise ta frayeur et ton angoisse neuve.
Suce man membre dur comme on suce un gla�on.

Mordille tendremenc le paf qui bat ta joue,

Baise ma queue enflee, enfonce dans con cou
Le paquet de ma bite avale d'un seul coup.
Etrangle-toi d 'amour, degorge, et fais ta moue !

Adore a deux genoux, comme un poteau sacre,

Mon torse tatoue, adore jusqu' aux larmes
Mon sexe qui se rompt, te frappe mieux qu'une arme,
Adore man baton qui va te penetrer.

11 bondit sur tes yeux; ii enfile con rune.

Penche un peu la tete et le vois se dresser.
L'apercevanc si noble et si propre au baiser
Tu t'inclines tres bas en lui disant : Madame !
« »

Madame ecoutez-moi ! Madame on meurt ici !

Le manoir est hante ! La prison vole et tremble !
Au secours, nous bougeons ! Emportez-nous ensemble,
Dans vocre chambre au ciel, Dame de la merci !

Appelez le soleil , qu'il vienne et me console.

Etranglez taus ces coqs ! Endormez le bourreau !
Le jour sourit mauvais derriere man carreau.
La prison pour mourir est une fade ecole.
 Sentenced to Death I r9

Each bloodfeasc chooses a lovely boy

To stand behind the child at his first try.
Appease your fear and your new-born anguish.
Suck my hard cock as you would suck an icicle.

Ge ntly nibble at the prick beating your cheek,

Kiss my swollen cock, cram the whole wad of my dick
Down your throat, swallow it all at once.
Strangle yourself with love, spit it out, pout!

Worship my tattooed torso like a holy totempole,

Gee down on both knees, worship my prick that breaks you
Better than a weapon, to the point of tears,
Worship what's about to penetrate you.

le springs co your eyes; it rips through your soul.

Bend your head a bit and watch it stand up stiff.
Seeing it so noble and so suitable to kiss
You bow very low and say to ic: "Madame !"

Madame, listen co me ! Madame, we're dying here !

The manor is haunted ! The prison shakes and shivers !
Help, it's moving! Take us away together
Up co your room in heaven, Lady of mercy !

Call the sun co come comfort me.

Strangle all these roosters ! Put the executioner to sleep !
Day is smiling badly behind my window.
Prison is a dreary school for dying.
20 I Le Condamni a Mort
SUR MON COU sans armure et sans haine, mon cou
Que ma main plus legere et grave qu'une veuve
Effieure sous mon col, sans que ton creur s 'emeuve,
Laisse tes dents poser leur sourire de loup.

0 viens mon beau soleil, 6 viens ma nuic d'Espagne,

Arrive dans mes yeux qui seronc mores demain.
Arrive, ouvre ma porte, apporte-moi ta main,
Mene-moi loin d,ici battre notre campagne.

Le ciel peut s,eveiller, les ecoiles fleurir,

Ni les fleurs soupirer, et de pres l'herbe noire
Accueillir la rosee OU le matin va boire,
Le clocher peuc sonner : moi seul je vais mourir.

0 viens mon ciel de rose, o ma corbeille blonde !

Visite dans sa nuit con condamne a more.
Arrache-toi la chair, cue, escalade , mords,
Mais viens ! Pose ta joue concre ma cece ronde.

Nous n'avions pas fini de nous parler d'amour.

Nous n' avians pas fini de fumer nos gicanes.
On peut se demander pourquoi les Cours condamnenc
Un assassin si beau qu'il fair pfilir le jour.

Amour viens sur ma bouche ! Amour ouvre ces porces !

Traverse les couloirs, descends, marche leger,
Vole dans l' escalier plus souple qu,un berger,
Plus soutenu par l' air qu'un vol de feuilles morces.

0 traverse les murs; s'il le fauc marche au bord

Des toits, des oceans ; couvre-coi de lumiere,
Use de la menace, use de la priere,
Mais viens, o ma fregate, une heure avant ma more.
 Sentenced to Death I 2 1

LET YOUR TEETH sink their wolfish grin

Into my tender and defenseless neck whose back
My hand lighter and more solemn than a widow
Strokes under my collar without your heart being moved .

0 come my handsome sun, 0 come my Spanish night,

Come into my eyes that will be dead tomorrow.
Come, open my door, give me your hand,
Lead me far from here to wander our countryside.

Let the sky awaken, the scars blossom,

Let the flowers sigh, the bells sound,
And the black grass greet the dew char morning will drink
In the fields: as for me I 'm going co die.

0 come my rosy sky, 0 come my blond basket!

Come visit in his night your man sentenced to death.
Rip your flesh, kill, climb, bite,
But come ! Come put your cheek against my round head.

We hadn't finished speaking of love.

We had n't even finished smoking our cigarettes.
It's a wonder how the courts could sentence
A murderer so fair that he makes day grow pale.

Love, come to my mouth ! Love, open your door!

Walk through the halls, come down, walk softly,
Fly down the stairs, more agile than a shepherd ,
Sustained in the air better than a flight of dead leaves.

0 go through the walls; if need be, walk along the edge

Of the roofs, of oceans; cover yourself with light,
Use threats, use prayer,
But come, 0 my frigate, one hour before my death.
22 I Le Condamne a Mort
LES ASSASSINS du mur s'enveloppent d'aurore
Dans ma cell ule ouverte au chant des hauts sap ins,
Qui la berce, accrochee a des cordages fins
N oues par des marins que le clair matin dore.

Qui grava dans le platre une Rose des Vents ?

Qui songe a ma maison, du fond de sa Hongrie ?
Quel enfant s' est roule sur ma paille pourrie
A I'instant du reveil d'amis se souvenant ?

Divague ma Folie, enfante pour ma j oie

Un consolant enfer peuple de beaux soldats,
Nus jusqu'a la ceinture, et des frocs resedas
Tire ces lourdes fleurs dont l'odeur me foudroie.

Arrache on ne sait d'ou les gestes les plus fous.

Derobe des enfants, invente des tortures,
Mutile la Beaute, travaille les figures,
Et donne la Guyane aux gars pour rendez-vous.

0 mon vieux Maroni, 6 Cayenne la douce !

Je vois les corps penches de quinze a vingr fagots
Autour du mino blond qui fume les megots
Craches par les gardiens dans les fleurs et la mousse.

Un clop mouille suffit a nous desoler tous.

Dresse seul au-dessus des rigides fougeres
Le plus jeune est pose sur ses hanches legeres
Immobile, attendant d'etre sacre l'epoux.

Et les vieux assassins se pressant pour le rite

Accroupis dans le soir tirent d'un baton sec
Un peu de feu que vole, actif, le petit mec
Plus emouvant et pur qu'une emouvante bite.
 Sentenced to Death I 23

THE MURDERERS of the wall wrap themselves in sunrise

In my cell open to the chant of the tall pinetrees
That lulls it, hooked to fine lines
Knotted by sailors whom morning guilds.

Who carved a windrose in the plaster?

Who's dreaming of my home, from the depths of his Hungary ?
What child rolled over my rotten straw
Remembering friends at the moment of waking?

Wander, my Madness, produce for my own pleasure

A consoling hell peopled with handsome soldiers,
Naked to the waist, and from their flowery skivvies
Pull up chose heavy flowers whose odor strikes me like thunder.

Pull out from who knows where the worst acts of madness:
Kidnap children, invent tortures,
Mangle Beauty, batter her faces,
And give Guiana co the guys for their rendezvous.

0 my old Maroni, 0 sweet Cayenne ! *

I see the bodies of fifteen or twenty hoodlums
Bending over a blond curie smoking the butts
That the guards spic out into the flowers and the moss.

A wee butt is enough co depress all of us.

Alone, above the unyielding ferns, good and stiff,
The youngest is leaning back on his slender hips,
Passive, waiting co be anointed as bridegroom.

The old murderers rush co the rite

Where squatting in the evening they draw from a dry stick
A little fire nimbly stolen by the kid
Purer and more thrilling than a stiffening prick.

•cayenne is the capital of French Guiana, off whose coast Devil's Island is
• 'I - .. • • • • � •
24 I Le Condamne a Mort
Le bandit le plus dur, dans ses muscles polis
Se courbe de respect devant ce gamin frele.
Monte la lune au ciel. S'apaise une querelle.
Bougent du drapeur noir les myscerieux plis.

T'enveloppent si fin, ces gestes de dentelle !

U ne epaule appuyee au palmier rougissant
Tu fumes. La fumee en ta gorge descend
Tandis q ue les bagnards, en danse solennelle,

Graves, silencieux, a tour de role, enfant,

Vont prendre sur ta bouche une goutte embaumee,
U ne goutte, pas deux, de la ronde fumee
Que leur coule ta langue. 0 frangin triomphant,

Divinite terrible, invisible et mechante,

Tu restes impassible, aigu, de clair metal,
Attentif a coi seul, distributeur fatal
Enleve sur le fil de ton hamac qui ch ante.

Ton rune delicate est par-dela les moms

Accompagnant encor la fuite ensorcelee
D'un evade du bagne, au fond d'une vallee
Mort, sans penser a toi, d'une balle aux poumons.

Eleve-toi clans l'air de la lune, a ma gosse.

Viens couler dans ma bouche un peu de sperme lourd
Qui roule de ta gorge a mes dents, mon Amour,
Pour feconder enfin nos adorables noces.

Colle ton corps ravi contre le mien qui meurt

D' enculer la plus tendre et douce des fripouilles.
En soupesant charme tes rondes, blondes couilles,
Mon vie de marbre noir t'enfile jusqu'au creur.
 Sentenced to Death I 2 s

The toughest bandit, with his polished muscles,

Bows respectfully before this frail boy.
The moon climbs in the sky. A quarrel is settled.
The mysterious folds of the black flag waver.

Your lace-like gestures wrap you up so fine !

You're smoking, one of your shoulders leaning against
A reddening palmtree. The smoke in your throat falls
While the convicts, dancing solemnly,

Serious, silent, each one in turn, 0 youngster,

Come up to take a fragrant drop from your mouth,
Only one drop, not two, of the round smoke
Rolling off your tongue. 0 triumphant brother,

Terrible divinity, invisible and malevolent,

You sit there impassive, keen, made of shiny metal,
Thinking only of yourself, fatal bestower,
Raised upon the edge of your singing hammock.

Your delicate soul is beyond the hills

Still following the spellbound flight
Of a jailbreaker who, without a thought of you, lies dead
On a valley's floor, with a bullet through his lungs.

0 kid of mine, rise to the air of the moon.

Come pour into my mouth a little heavy cum
Rolling from your throat to my teeth, my Love,
Finally fertilizing our divine wedding.

Glue your rapturous body to mine that is dying

From fucking the tenderest and sweetest of rascals.
Under your spell, as my hand weighs your round, blond balls,
My black marble prick spits you to the heart.
26 I Le Condamni a Mort

0 vise-le dresse dans son couchanc qui brfi.le

Et va me consumer ! Jen ai pour peu de temps,
Si vous I'osez, venez, .sortez de VOS etangs,
Vos marais, votre boue ou vous faites des bulles.

Ames de mes rues ! Tuez-moi ! Brulez-moi !

Michel -Ange extenue, j'ai taille dans la vie
Mais la beaute, Seigneur, toujours je I'ai servie,
Mon ventre, mes genome, mes mains roses d'emoi.

Les coqs du poulailler, l'alouette gauloise,

Les boites du laitier, une cloche dans I' air,
Un pas sur le gravier, mon carreau blanc et clair,
C 'est le luisanc joyeux sur la prison d'ardoise.

Messieurs, je n'ai pas peur ! Si ma tete roulait

Dans le son du panier avec ta tere blanche,
La mienne par bonheur sur ta gracile hanche
Ou pour plus de beaute, sur ton cou, mon poulet . . .

Attention ! Roi tragique a la bouche encr'ouverte

]'accede a tes j ardins de sable desoles,
Ou tu bandes fige, seul, et deux d digts leves,
D'un voile de lin bleu ta tete recouverte.

Par un delire idiot je vois ton double pur !

Amour ! Chanson ! Ma reine ! Est-ce un spectre male
Entrevu lors du jeu dans ta prunelle pale
Qui m' examine ainsi sur le platre du mur ?

Ne sois pas rigoureux, laisse chanter marine

A ton cceur bohemien ; m' accorde un seul baiser. . .
Mon Dieu, je vais claquer sans te pouvoir presser
Dans ma vie une fois sur moo cceur et ma pine !
 Sentenced to Death I 27

0 take aim on him standing up in his burning sunset

That's going to consume me ! I have so little time left,
If you dare, come to me, leave your ponds,
Your swamps, the mud you blow bubbles from.

The souls of my dead ! Kill me! Burn me !

Like Michaelangelo, I've carved my life away
But as for Beauty, Lord, I've always served her,
My belly, my knees, my hands, roses of feeling.

The roosters in the henhouse, the Gallic skylark,

The dairyman's cans, a bell in the air,
A step on the gravel, my window white and bright,
A joyful light shining on the slate-gray prison.

Gentlemen, I'm not afraid ! If my head was rolling

In the racket of the basket with your blond head,
Mine by good fortune on your slim hip
Or for greater beauty on your neck, my chicken . . .

Watch out! Tragic king with your mouth half-open

I h ave access to your sad sand gardens,
Where you're jacking off, alone, two fingers raised,
Your head wrapped in a veil of blue linen.

In a state of frenzy I see your look-alike !

Love ! Song! My queen! Is this the male specter
I had a glimpse of in your pale eyes while playing
Now watching me so from the plaster on the wall?

Don't be so severe, let the morning-songs be sung

To your gypsy heart; let me have just one kiss . . .
My God , I 'm going to croak without once being able
To hold you close to my cock and my heart!
28 I Le Condamni a Mort
P ARDONNEZ-MO I, mon Dieu, parce que j 'ai peche !
Les larmes de ma voix, ma fievre, ma souffrance,
Le mal de m'envoler du beau pays de France,
N 'est-ce assez, mon Seigneur, pour aller me coucher
Trebuchant d 'esperance

Dans vos bras embaumes, dans vos chateaux de neige !

Seigneur des lieux obscurs, je sais encor prier.
C 'est moi mon pere, un jour, qui me suis eerie :
Gloire au plus haut du ciel au dieu qui me protege,
Hermes au tendre pied !

Je demande a la mort la paix, les longs sommeils,

Le chant des seraphins, leurs parfums, leurs guirlandes
Les Angelots de laine en chaudes Houppelandes,
Et j 'espere des nuits sans lunes ni soleils
Sur d'immobiles landes.

Ce n'est pas ce matin que l'on me guillotine.

Je peux dormir tranquille. A l'erage au-dessus
Mon mignon paresseux, ma perle, mon Jesus,
S'eveille. II va cogner de sa dure bottine
A mon crane tondu.

IL P ARAlT qu'a cote vit un epileptique.

La prison dort debout au noir d 'un chant des morts.
Si des marins sur I'eau voient s' avancer les ports
Mes dormeurs vom s'enfuir vers une autre Amerique.
 Sentenced to Death I 29

FORGIV E ME, everloving God, for I have sinned !

The tears within my voice, my fever, my grievance,
This deep pain of fleeing from my beautiful France,
Won't this do Lord, to let me lie down at day's end
Weighed down with reliance

I n your fragrant arms, in your palaces of snow!

0 Lord of dark places, I still know how to pray.
I am the one, my father, who cried out one day:
Glory to Heaven to the god who leads me home,
Hermes winging the way !

All that I ask of death is true peace, a long rest,

The chants of Seraphim, their perfumes, their garlands,
The cherubs of wool wrapped up in warm cloaks made by hand,
And I only hope for nights moonless and sunless
On motionless wastelands.

This morning they aren't going to guillotine me.

I can sleep peacefully. On the floor right above
My lazy pet, my pearl, my Jesus, my true love
Awakes.With his hard boots he's going to beat
On my smooth-shaven skull.

IT SEEMS that an epileptic lives next door.

The prison sleeps upright in the gloom of a requiem.
If sailors at sea see approaching ports,
My sleepers will flee towards another America.
30 I Le Condamne a Mort

)'AI DEDI E ce poeme a la memoire de mon ami Maurice

Pilorge dont le corps et le visage radieux hantent mes
nuits sans sommeil . En esprit je revis avec lui les qua­
rante derniers jours qu'il passa, les chaines aux pieds et
parfois aux poignets , dans la cellule des condamnes a
mort de la prison de Saint-Brieuc. Les journaux
manquent d'a-propos. Ils con�urent d 'imbeciles articles
pour illustrer sa mort qui coi"ncidait avec l'entree en
fonction du bourreau Desfourneaux. Commenrant !'atti­
tude de Maurice devant la mort, le journal /'(Euvre dit :
« Que cet enfant eut ere digne d 'un autre des tin. ))
Bref on le ravala. Pour moi, qui I' ai connu et qui I' ai
aime, je veux ici, le plus doucement possible, tendre­
ment, affirmer qu'il fut digne, par la double et unique
splendeur de son rune et de son corps, d avoir la benefi ce
·

d 'une telle mo rt. Chaque matin, quand j. allais, grace a la

complicite d 'un gardien ensorcele par sa beaute, sa jeu­
nesse et son agonie d'Apollon , de ma cellule a la sienne,
pour lui porter quelques cigarettes, leve tot il fredonnait
et me saluait ainsi, en souriant : Salut, Jeannot-du­
«

Matin ! »
Originaire du Puy-de-Dome, il avait un peu !'accent
d'Auvergne. Les jures, offenses par rant de grace, sru­
pides mais pourtant prestigieux clans leur role de
Parques, le condamnerent a vingt ans de travaux forces .
pour cambriolage de villas sur la cote, et le lendemain,
parce qu'il avait tue son amant Escudero pour lui voler
moins de mille francs, cette meme cour d ·as sises con­
damnait mon ami Maurice Pilorge a avoir la rere tran­
chee. 11 fut execute le 17 mars 1939 a Saint-Brieuc.
 Sentenced to Death I 31

I HAVE DEDICATED this poem to the memory of my

friend, Maurice Pilorge, whose radiant body and face
haunt my sleepless nights. In spirit I relive with him the
last forty days that he spent with chains at his ankles and
sometimes even at his wrists, in the death-cell of the
prison of Saint-Brieuc. The newspapers missed the
whole point of it. They collaborated in writing idiotic
articles about his death, that coincided with the taking of
office by the new executioner, Desfourneaux. Com­
menting on Maurice's attitude toward death, the news­
paper L'CEuvre said: "Would that that child had been
worthy of a different destiny."
In short, they insulted him. As for me, who knew him
and loved him, I want, as sweetly and as tenderly as
possible, to affirm here that he was worthy, by the
double and unique splendor of his soul and of his body,
of the blessing of such a death. Every morning, when I
went, thanks to the complicity of a jailor bewitched by
his beauty, his youth and his Apollonian agony, from my
cell to his, to bring him a few cigarettes, already up and
humming to himself, and, with a smile on his face, he
would say to me: "Hello, Jeannot-of-the-morning!"
From Puy-de-Dome, he had a trace of the Auvergne
accent. The j ury, offended by so much charm, stupid yet
nevertheless impressive in their role of Fate, sentenced
him to twenty years of forced labor for burglarizing
coastal villas, and the next day, because he had killed his
lover, Escudero, to steal not even a thousand francs from
him, that same court sentenced him to the guillotine. He
was executed on March 17, i939, at Saint-Brieuc.
MAR C H E FUNEBRE

F UNERAL MAR CH
34 I Marche Funebre
I

IL RESTE un peu de nuit dans un angle a croupir.

Etincelle en coups durs dans notre ciel timide
(Les arbres du silence accrochent des soupirs )
U ne rose de gloire au sommet de ce vide.

Perfide est le sommeil ou la prison m'emporte

Et plus obscurement dans mes couloirs secrets
Eclairant les marins qui font de belles mortes
Ce gars hautain qui passe au fond de ses forers.

II

C'EST EN MOI qu'il me boucle et c'est jusqu'a perpete

Ce gafe de vingc ans !
Un seul geste son reil, ses cheveux dans les dents :
Mon creur s'ouvre et le gafe avec un cri de fete
M' emprisonne dedans.

A peine refermee avec trop de bome

Cette porte mechante
Que de ja tu reviens. Ta perfection me hante
Et j'entends notre amour aujourd'hui raconte
Par ta bouche qui chante.

Ce tango poignarde que la cellule ecoute,

Ce tango des adieux.
Est-ce toi monseigneur sur cet air radieux ?
Ton rune aura coupe par de secretes routes
Pour echapper aux dieux.
 Funeral March I 35

I N A NEGLECTED corner there remains some night.

A rose of glory on top of this empty hole
(The trees of silence entangle wandering sighs)
In our shy sky is throwing off sparks with hard blows.

Treacherous is the sleep where the prison brings me

Even more obscurely in my secret hallways
Giving light to sailors who make deaths of beauty
This haughty guy who through its forests makes his way.

II

HE LOCKS M E UP within myself and it's for life

This turnkey of twenty !
A single gesture his eye, hair in his comb's teeth:
My heart opens, the guard on duty belts a cry,
And pleased shuts me in it.

On account of this miserable door barely closed

Squeeking leniency
You already come back. Your perfection haunts me
And jus t today I 've heard our love sweetly disclosed
By your own mouth singing.

This stabbed tango that the cell is listening to,

This tango of goodbyes.
Are you the one my lord on this air so dazzling?
Your s oul will have made short-cuts by secret paths to
Escape the deities.
3 6 I Marche Ftmebre
III

QUAND TU DORS des chevaux deferlent dans la nuit

Sur ta poitrine plate et le galop des beces
Ecarce la tenebre ou le sommeil conduit
Sa puissante machine arrachee a ma tete
Et sans le moindre bruit

Le sommeil fait fleurir de tes pieds cant de branches

Que j' ai peur de mourir etouffe par leurs eris.
Que dechiffre au defaut de ta fragile hanche
Avant qu'il ne s'efface un pur visage eerie
En bleu sur ta peau blanche.

Mais qu'un ga.fe t'eveille o mon tendre voleur

Quand tu laves tes mains ces oiseaux qui voltigent
Autour de ton bosquet charge de mes douleurs
Tu casses avec douceur des etoiles la tige
Sur ton visage en pleurs.

Ta depouille funebre a des poses de gloire

Ta main qui la jetait la semant de rayons.
Ton maillot, ta chemise et ta ceinture ·noire
Etonnent ma cellule et me laissent couillon
Devane ton bel ivoire.

IV

BELLES NUITS du plein jour

Tenebres de Pilorge
C 'e st dans vos noirs detours
Mon couteau que l'on forge.
 Funeral March I 37

III

WHEN YOU SLEEP horses break away wild in the night

On your flat chest, and the gallop of the pure-breds
Draws aside the darkness where sleep drives
Its powerful machine torn from my head
Without the slightest noise.

Sleep makes so many branches grow from your fe et

I 'm afraid of dying smothered by their screams.
For lack of your delicate hip I hope co read
Your face before it erases itself written
I n blue on your white skin.

Bue lee a guard wake you up my tender chief

When you wash your hands these birds chat idly hover
Around your shrubbery weighted down by my sufferings
Gently you break co pieces the stem of the scars
On your face wee with tears.

Your death remains have couches of glory

Your unforgiving hand emitting dares of rays.
Your underwear, your shire, your belt colored ebony
Shock the hell out of my cell, leave me in a daze
Before your ivory.

IV

BEAUTIFUL NIGHTS of day

Gloominess of Pilorge
Ic�s in your black by-ways
That my knife finds its forge.
38 I Marche Funebre
Mon Dieu me voici nu
Dans mon terrible Louvre.
A peine reconnu
Que ton poing ferme m'ouvre

Je ne suis plus qu' amour

Toutes mes branches brulent
Si j' obscurcis le jour
En moi l'ombre recule.

11 se peut qu'a l'air pur

Mon corps sec tombe en poudre
Pose contre le mur
Jai l'eclat de la foudre.

Le creur de mon soleil

Le chant du coq le creve
Mais j amais le sommeil
N' ose y verser ses reves.

Sechant selon mes vreux

Je fixe le silence
Quand des oiseaux de feu
De mon arbre s'elancent.

DES DAMES que l'on croit de nature cruelle

Leurs pages messagers portent des ornements.
Ils se !event la nuit ces rodeurs de ruelle
Et sur un signe d 'eux vous partez hardiment.
 Funeral March I 39

Before you God I rise

Naked in my Louvre.
Unseen to others' eyes
Your fist opening up.

If I darken the day

All my branches burning
If day darkens of me
Within me shadows shrink.

My dry body may fall

In pure air into dust
Standing against a wall
Thundering I 'm love-struck.

The cock's morning-song reams

My sun's hidden center
But sleep would never dream
Of pouring its dreams there.

Drying to my desire
I put silence in place
When the birds of wild fire
From my tree regain space.

THESE LADIES who are thought to be cruel by nature

Their carrier pageboys bear jewels and gemmed what-nots.
These side-street prowlers get up at night's early hours
And on their signal you leave without second thought.
40 I Marche Funebre
Or tel gosse vibrant clans sa robe de grace
Me fut I' ange envoye dont je suivais confus
Par la course affole la lumineuse trace
Jusqu'a cette cellule ou luisait son refus.

VI

QUAND j'AI VOULU chanter d'aucres gammes que lui

Ma plume s'embrouillant clans les rais de lumiere
D' un mot vertigineux la tete la premiere
Stupide je tombais par cette erreur conduit
Au fond de son orniere.

VII

RIEN NE TROUBLERA plus l'erernelle saison

Ou je me trouve pris. L'eau de la solitude
Immobile me garde et remplit la prison.
]' ai vingt ans pour tou jours et malgre votre emde.

Pour te plaire o gamin d'une sourde beaure

]e resterai vetu j usqu'a ce que je meure
Et ton rune quittant ton corps decapite
Trouvera dans mon corps une blanche demeure.

0 savoir que tu dors sous mon modeste toit !

Tu parles par ma bouche et par mes yeux regardes
Cette chambre est la tienne et mes vers sonr de roi.
Revis ce qu'il te plait car je monre la garde.
 F" neral March I 4r

Now such a vivacious child in his gown of grace

Was for me the messenger angel that I tailed
I n mad confusion on his path the shining trace
Where his refusal was glowing up in this cell.

VI

WHEN I FELT like singing of other youngsters

My pen getting muddled up in rays of light
From one single dizzy word head first stupified
I found myself falling driven by that error
To his depths out of sight.

VII

NOTHING WILL EVER STIR the eternal season

Up in which I am now caught. Solitude's waters
Unmoving keep me in and fill up this prison.
Despite your thoughts, I'm twenty years old forever.

To keep you pleased 0 gamin of a deep beauty

I will remain dressed to the very day I die.
Your soul leaving your decapitated body
Will fi nd in my strong body a white resting site.

0 to know that under my modest roof you sleep!

This room is yours and you are my verses' sole muse
Using my mouth you speak using my eyes you see.
I'm on guard now live again as much as you please.
42 I Marche Funebre
VIII

PEUT-eTRE c'ecait coi le demon qui pleuraic

Derriere ma muraille ?
Revenu parmi nous plus presce qu'un furet
Ma divine canaille.

Le sore decruic encor par un nouveau crepas

Nos amours desolees
Car c' etait encor toi Pilorge ne mens pas
Que ces Ombres volees !

IX

L' EN FANT que je cherchais epars sur tant de gosses

Est mort d ans son lit seul comme un prince royal.
Hesitant sur I'orteil une gnice le chausse
Et recouvre son corps d'un etendard loyal.

A la douceur d'un geste ou s'accroche une rose

Je reconnais la main devalisant les morts !
Seul tu fis ces travaux qu'un soldat meme n'ose
Et tu descends chez eux san craintes ni remords.

Comme ton corps un maillot noir gantait ton rune

Et quand tu profanais le tombeau designe
Tu decoupais avec la pointe d'une lame
La ligne d'un rebus par la foudre aligne.

Nous t' avons vu surgir po rte par la folie

Aux couronnes de fer accroche par les tifs
Dans cette bave en perle et les roses salies
Les bras entortilles d'avoir ete pris vif.
 Funeral March I 43

VIII

CO ULD IT BE you were the demon chat was crying

Behind my thick high walls?
Quicker than a ferret back again in our ring
My heavenly rascal.

Adding a new death face continues destroying

Our passion full of woe
Because it was you, Pilorge-chere's no need co lie­
All these stolen shadows !

IX

THE CHILD I was seeking among ocher youngsters

Died in his bed like a royal prince.
Before covering his body with a standard
A grace had trouble shoeing him.

By its gen tie gesture chat a rose clings co

I recognize the hand chat lives co rob the dead !
Alone you did what a soldier wouldn't dare do
And now descend without fear or sorrow with chem.

Black shores gloved your soul like your body

And when you offended the designated grave
The line of a puzzle aligned by a lightning-bolt
Was cut into shapes with the sharp edge of your blade.

We saw you arise carried away by madness

Attached tightly by your hair co wreaths of iron
In that pearling saliva and the dirtied roses
Your arms twisted from being taken alive.
44 I Marche Funebre
A peine revenu nous porter con sourire
Ee tu disparaissais si vice que j 'ai cru
Que ca grace endormie avait sans nous le dire
Pour un autre visage aucres ciels parcouru.

De con corps bien caille sur un enfant qui passe

J entrevois les eclats je lui veux te parler
Mais un geste de lui subtil de lui t' efface
Et te plonge en mes vers d · ou tu ne peux filer.

Quel ange a done permis qu'a cravers les solides

Tu passes sans bronc her fendant I' air de ta main
Helice delicate a l'avant d'un bolide
Qui trace et qui decruit son precieux chemin ?

Nous ecions desoles par ta fuite legere.

u n tete a queue brillant te mettait dans nos bras.
Tu becocais nos cous et tu nous voulais plaire
Et ta main pardonnait a cous ces cheveux ras.

Mais cu n'apparais plus gosse blond que je cherche.

Je tombe dans un mot et t'y vois a l'envers.
Tu c'eloignes de moi un vers me tend la perche.
D'une ronce de eris je m' egare a travers .

Pour re saisir le Ciel fit de sublimes pieges

Feroces et nouveaux reuvrant avec la More
Qui surveillait du haut d'un invisible siege
Les cordes et le nreuds sur des bobines d'or.

II se servit encor du trajec des abeilles

11 devida si long de rayons et de fil
Qu'il fit captive enfin cette rose merveille :
Un visage d'enfant qui s'offrait de profil.
 Funeral March I 45

Having j ust returned bringing your smile back to us

You disappeared so quickly that it crossed my mind
That your slumbering charm had without telling us
Been cruising for another face through other skies.

I glimpse the radiance of your body slim and trim

On a passing child . I want to call him or you
But a sly move of his erases you from him.
And plunges you in my verses you can't break out of.

So which angel has let you across the solid walls

Go without stumbling bending the air with your hands
A delicate helix in front of a meteor
That's marking out and destroying its precious path ?

Your swift and untimely escape had made us sad.

A head with a burning tail put you in our arms.
You kissed our necks and you wanted to please us all.
Your hand forgave all these shaven heads.

But you no longer appear, blond youngster I seek.

I fall in a word and see you there reflected in reverse.
You go away, a verse holds out a hand to me.
I lose my bearings across a bramble of shouts.

Heaven made lofty, new and ferocious traps

To catch you in collaboration with Death, who
Heading an invisible seat from high above,
Was inspecting the ropes and knots on golden spools.

It even made use of the passage of the bees

And unwound such great lengths of rays and heavy thread
That it captured this pink wonder finally:
A child 's face presenting itself in profile.
46 I Marche Funebre
Ce jeu s,il est cruel je n,oserais m,en plaindre
Un chant de desespoir en crevanc con bel ceil
S, affola de Ce voir par Cant d,horreur etreindre
Ee ce chant pour mille ans fie vibrer con cercueil.

Pris aux pieges des dieux ecrangle par leur soie

Tu es more sans savoir ni pourquoi ni comment.
Tu criomphes de moi mais perds au jeu de l'oie
Ou je c' ose forcer mon fugicif amanc.

Malgre les soldats noirs qui baisseronc leurs lances

Tu ne peux fuir du lit ou le masque de fer
T'immobilise raide et soudain cu t'elances
Recombes sans bouger et reviens en enfer.

MON CACHOT bien-aime clans con ombre mouvance

Mon ceil a decouverc par megarde un secret.
J ai dormi des sommeils que le monde ignoraic
Ou se noue l'epouvance.

Tes couloirs cenebreux sonc meandres du cceur

Ee leur masse de reve organise en silence
Un mecanisme ayanc du vers la ressemblance
Et l,exacce rigueur.

Ta nuit laisse couler de mon ceil et ma cempe

Un flot d'encre si lourd qu,elle en fera sortir
Des etoiles de fleurs comme on le voic d,un tir
La plume que j'y trempe.
 Funeral March I 47

I don't dare complain if this game is cruel.

On poki ng out your beautiful eye a song of despair
Seeing you embraced by so much horror went mad
And made your coffin vibrate for a thousand years.

Cap tured in the gods' traps and strangled by their silk

You died much too soon knowing neither how or why.
You win over me but lose at the game
To which I dare force you, my fugitive lover.

Even though the black soldiers will lower their spears,

You cannot flee this bed where the mask of iron
Keeps you in a stiff position, and then you leap,
Fall agai n wi thout moving, and to hell remrn.

I N YOU R STI RRING shadow my beloved prison cell

My eye has discovered a secret unawares.
I've slept slumbers of which the world wasn't aware
Where fright gets all tangled.

Your dark narrow hallways are the heart's labyrinth

Their body of dream organizes in silence
A mechanism showing a resemblance to verse
And its exact rigor.

From my eye and temple your night lets flow

A stream of ink so heavy that stars of flowers
Under such force like a shot from it will emerge
And there I dip my pen.
48 I Marche Funebre
]' avance clans un noir liquide oil des complocs
Informes tout d' abord lentemenc se precisenc.
Qu'hurlerais-je au secours ? Tous mes gestes se brisenc
Et mes eris sont crop beaux.

Yous ne saurez j amais de ma sourde decresse

Que d' etranges beautes que revele le jour.
Les voyous que j , ecoute apres leurs mille tours
A l 'air libre se pressenc.

Ils depechent sur terre un doux ambassadeur

Un enfanc sans regard qui marque son passage
En crevant tant de peaux que son joyeux message
Y gagne sa splendeur.

Yous palissez de honce a lire le poeme

Qu'inscrit I' adolescent aux gesces criminels
Mais vous ne saurez rien des nreuds originels
De ma sombre veheme

Car les parfums roulanc clans sa nuic sonc crop forts.

Il signera Pilorge et son apocheose
Sera l'echafaud clair d'ou jaillissenc les roses
Bel effet de la more.

XI

LE HASARD fit sortir - le plus grand ! des hasards

Trop souvent de ma plume au creur de mes poemes
La rose avec le mot de Mort qu'a leurs brassards
En blanc portent brode les noirs guerriers que j'aime.
 Funeral March I 49

In a mysterious black liquid I advance.

Schemes fi rst of all shapeless slowly find their measure.
How should I shout for help ? Weak are all my gestures
Too beautiful my cries.

By my deaf distress you will never be aware

How many strange beauties are revealed by the day.
These hoodlums after thousands of pranks
Rush to the open air.

They dispatch to earth a gentle ambassador

A disregardful child that marks his passage
Bursting so many skins that his joyous message
There by wins his splendor.

You become pale with shame when reading the poem

That the child with such criminal gestures writes down
Yet you'll know nothing of the original knots
Of my gloomy passion.

For the perfumes rolling in his night are too strong.

Pilorge will sign his name and his apotheosis
Will become the bright scaffold from which gush forth roses
Death's beautiful artistry.

XI

FATE TOO OFTEN emptied-the greatest of hazards!

From my pen to the heart of my poems
The rose , toge ther with the word Death, embroidered
I n white on the armbands of the black warriors I love.
50 I Marche Funebre
Quel jardin peut fleurir tout au fond de ma nuit
Et quels jeux douloureux s'y livrent qu'ils effeuillent
Cette rose coupee et qui monte sans bruit
Jusqu'a la page blanche ou vos rires l'accueillent.

Mais si je ne sais rien de precis sur la Mort

D'avoir cant parle d'elle et sur le mode grave
Elle doit vivre en moi pour surgir sans effort
Au moindre de mes mots s'ecouler de ma have.

]e ne connais rien d'elle, on die que sa beaute

Use l'ecernite par son pouvoir magique
Mais ce pur mouvement eclate de rates
Et trahit les secrets d'un desordre tragique.

Pale de se mouvoir clans un climat de pleurs

Elle vient les pieds nus explosant par bouffees
A ma surface meme OU ces bouquets de fleurs
M' apprennent de la Mort des douceurs ecouffees.

Je m'abandonnerai belle Mort a ton bras

Car je sais recrouver remouvante prairie
De mon enfance ouverte et tu me conduiras
Aupres de l'etranger a la verge fleurie.

Et fort de cette force o reine je serai

Le ministre secret de ton theatre d 'ombres.
Douce Mort prenez-moi me voici prepare
En route a mi-chemin de votre ville sombre.
 Ftmeral March I 5 r

What garden can bloom at the bottom of my night

What painful games are played there that they strip the petals
Of this cut rose which silently climbs
Up to the white page where your laughter mingles with it.

And if I don't know anything precise of Death

Having spoken so much about her in grave tones
She must live in me and readily rise from depths
At the least of my words and flow in my saliva.

It's said her beauty-I know nothing about her­

Wears out eternity with her magic powers
But this mere movement explodes in misfirings
Betraying the secrets of a tragic disorder.

Pale from wandering around in a region of tears

She comes, bare feet exploding, to my very surface
Even where these bouquets of flowers
Teach me about the hidden tendernesses of Death.

I'll give myself up to your arms Death my beauty

For I know I'll find again the stirring grassland
Of my unrestrained childhood and you'll escort me
Up to the stranger with the blooming cock.

And strong with this unfailing might, 0 queen, I'll be

The minister of your theater of shadows.
Sweet Death take me, here I am, ready,
Half-way on down the road to your town of darkness.
52 I Marche Funebre

XII

S UR UN MOT ma voix bute et du choc tu jaillis

Au miracle si prompt que joyeux a res crimes !
Qui done s' etonnera que je pose mes limes
Pour eprouver a fond du verbe les taillis ?

Mes amis qui veillez pour me passer des cordes

Autour de la prison sur rherbe endormez-vous.
De vorre amitie meme et de vous je m'en fous.
Je garde ce bonheur que les juges m'accordent.

Est-ce roi aurre moi sans tes souliers d'argent

Salome qui m'apporre une rose coupee ?
Cette rose saignante enfi n developpee
De son linge est la sienne ou la tete de Jean ?

Pilorge reponds-moi ! Fais bouger ta paupiere

Parle-moi de travers chante par ton gosier
Tranche par tes cheveux rombe de ton rosier
Mot a mot o ma Rose entre clans ma priere !

XIII

0 0 S ANS V I E I LL I R je meurs je eaime 6 ma prison .

La vie de moi s 'ecoule a la mort enlacee.
Leur valse lente et lourde a l'envers est dansee
Chacune devidan t sa sublime raison
L'une a l'autre opposee.

J ai trop de place encor ce n' est pas mon rombeau

Trop grande est ma cellule et pure ma fenetre.
Dans la nuit prenatale attendant de renaitre
Je me laisse vivant par un signe plus haut
De la Mon reconnaitre.
 Ft1neral March I 53

XII

MY VOICE stumbles on a word and from the shock you spring up

As prom pt to the miracle as joyous at your crimes !
Who would be shocked on seeing me put down my polishing
To explore fully the deep jungles of the Word ?

My friends keeping watch waiting to hand rope to me

Go fall asleep on the lawn around the prison.
I don't give a damn about you and your friendship.
I'm keeping this happiness the judges grant me.

Is it you, another me without your silver shoes on,

Is that you, Salome, bringing me a cut rose ?
Is this bleeding rose that finally has blossomed
From his clothing his or the head of John?

Pilorge answer me! Move your eyelid

Speak to me all awry, sing with your cut throat
Sing with your hair, fall from your rose bush,
Word by word , 0 my Rose, enter in my prayer!

XIII

AGELESS I 'm dying I love you 0 my prison.

Life's leaving me hugging death like a lover.
Their slow and heavy waltz is being danced backwards
While each one is unwinding its sublime reason
Opposed to each other.

Waiting to be born again in prenatal night

-There is still too much room this cannot be my comb
Too pure is my window too large is my dungeon­
Alive I let myself be recognized by
A higher sign of Death.
5 4 I Marche Funebre
A tout autre qu' au Ciel je ferme pour toujours
Ma po rte et je n 'accorde une minute amie
Qu' aux tres jeunes voleurs done mon oreille epie
De quel cruel espoir l' appel a mon secours
Dans leur chanson finie.

Mon chant n'est pas truque si j'hesite souvent

C'est que je cherche loin sous mes terres profondes
Et j 'amene tou jours avec les memes sondes
Les morceaux d 'un tresor enseveli vivant
Des les debuts du monde.

Si vous pouviez me voir sur ma table penche

Le visage defait par ma litterature
Yous sauriez que m'ecreure aussi cette aventure
Effrayante d 'oser decouvrir l'or cache
Sous cant de pourriture.

Une aurore joyeuse eclate dans mon reil

Pareille au matin clair qu'un tapis sur les dalles
Pour etouffer ta marche a travers les dedales
Des couloirs suffoques l' on posa de ton seuil
Aux portes matinales.
 F11 neral March I 55
To everything but Heaven I now close my door
Forever only granting a friendly moment
To the youngest of the thieves whose call for my help
Within their finished song that my ear spies upon
With such pitiless hope.

My song is not faked and if I often stammer

I t's that far beneath my profound eanh I'm searching
And I always bring up with the very same depth lines
Pieces of a treasure buried alive ever
Since the world's beginnings.

I f you could see me bending over my table

My face ghastly consumed by my literature
You'd know I 'm also sickened by this adventure
I fear of daring to disclose the gold hidden
Under rotten litter.

A brilliant and joyous dawn in my eye explodes

Similar to the lucid morning when they placed
A carpet on the flagstone to muffle your gait
Through the stifling mazed hallways from your threshold
To the gates of daybreak.
.......-­
-.---'
-
----

'
 LA GALERE *

THE GALLEY

*Harcamone, the hero of chis poem, is also the hero of Genet's novel,
The Miracle ofthe Rose, and there are many cross references.
5 8 I La Ga/ere
UN FOR<_;AT delivre dur et feroce lance
Un chiourme dans le pre mais d'une fleur de lance
Le marlou Croix du Sud I' assassin Pole Nord
Aux oreilles d'un autre otent ses boucles d'or.
Les plus beaux sont fleuris d' etranges maladies.
Leur croupe de guitare eclate en melodies.
L'ecume de la mer nous mouille de crachats.
Sommes-nous remontes des gorges d'un pacha ?

On parle de me battre et j ' ecoute VOS coups.

Qui me roule Harcamone et dans vos plis me coud ?

Harcamone aux bras verts haute reine qui vole

Sur ton odeur nocturne et les bois eveilles
Par l'horreur de son nom ce bagnard endeuille
Sur ma galere chance et son chant me desole.

Les rameaux alourdis par la chaine et la home

Les marles les forbans ces taureaux de la mer
Ouvrage par mille ans ton geste les raconte
Et le silence avec la nuit de ton reil clair.

Les armes de ces nuits par les fils de la more

Portees mes bras cloues de vin I' azur qui sort
De naseaux traverses par la rose egaree
Ou tremble sous la feuille une biche doree . . .
)e m'etonne et m'egare a poursuivre ton cours
Etonnant fleuve d' eau des veines du discours !

Empeste mon palais de ces durs que tu gardes

Dans res cheveux boucles sur deux bras replies
Ouvre ton torse d'or et que je les regarde
Embaumes par le sel dans ton coffre lies.
 The Galley I 59

A FREED hard and savage galley-slave releases

A gang of rowers in a field , but with a sword
Southern Cross the pimp and North Pole the assassin
Slash off the golden earrings from another's ears.
The most handsome are blooming with strange diseases.
Their shapely guitar-like asses break into tunes.
The foam of the sea soaks us to the bone with spit.
Have we been thrown up again from the throat of a pasha?

Someone speaks of beating me and I hear your blows.

Who rolls me, Harcamone, and sews me in your folds?

Harcamone with green arms prestigious queen flying

Above your scent by night and the woods woken up
By horror of his name this mourning convict sings
On my ship and his song leaves me broken-hearted.

Your deeds beautified by a thousand years relate

The oars made heavy by iron chains and sheer shame
The pimps the sea-pirates these bulls of the deep sea
Along with silence and the night of your clear sight.

The weapons of these nights worn by the sons of death

My arms stiffen with wine the azure surging out
Of nostrils crossed over by the rose gone astray
Where beneath the leaves a golden doe shakes with fear . . .
I'm amazed and go astray following your way
Stunning stream of water of the discourse's veins !

Poison my palace with the mean pricks you keep

In your dirty curly hair with your arms folded.
Open your golden torso and let me see them
Bound together and embalmed with salt in your safe.
60 I La Ga/ere

Entr'ouverts ces cercueils ornes de fleurs mouillees

U ne lampe y demeure et veille mes noyees.
Fais un geste Harcamone allonge un peu ton bras
Montre-moi ce chemin par ou tu t'enfuiras
Mais tu do rs si cu meurs et re joins cette folle
Ou libres de leurs fers les galeriens s'envolent.
Ils regagnent des ports ticubants de vins chauds
Des prisons com.me moi de merveilleux cachots.

Ces pets melodieux OU vous emmitouflez

Cellule un bouquet vert de macs frileux et tendres
La narine gonflee ii faudra les attendre
Et gagner transporte clans leurs chariots voiles

Mon enfance posee a peine sur la nuit

De papiers enflammes et meler cette soie
A la rousse splendeur qu'un grand marlou deploie
Du vent calme et lointain qui de son corps s'enfuir.

Pourtant la biche est prise a son piege de feuille

Dans I' aurore elle egoutte un adieu transparent
Qui traverse ton reil ton cristal et s' eprend
D'une larme tombee clans la mer qui l'accueille.

Un voleur en detresse un voleur a la mer.

Ainsi sombre Harcamone au visage de fer.
Des rubans des cheveux le tirent clans la vase
Ou la mer. Et la mort ? Coiffant sa boule rase
Dans les plis du drapeau rit le mac amuse.
Mais la more est habile et je n'ose ruser.
 The Galley I 6 1

These coffins half-open covered with wet flowers

A lamp s hines and keeps an eye on my drowned flowers.
Move, Harcamone, straighten our your arm a little
Show me the path that you're going to escape by
But you sleep, dead you return to the madwoman
The galley-slaves fly to when free of their irons.
They go back to the ports staggering in hot wine
Or like me to the prisons, those awesome dungeons.

These melodious farts in which you smother, cell,

An aroma of chilly yet tender hoodlums
With a swollen nose I will have to wait for them
And in their sailboats swiftly reach the forlorn shore

Of my childhood just barely floating on the night

Of flaming papers and quickly mix this silk
With the russet-red splendor a cocky pimp sends
In the calm distant wind fleeing from his body.

However, the doe is caught in her leafy trap.

At daybreak she lets a transparent farewell fall
That slides by your eye, your crystal, and falls in love
With a tear fallen in the sea that receives it.

A thief in deep distress a thief escaped to the sea.

And so Harcamone sinks with a face of iron.
Ribbons in his hair pull him down into the mud
Or the sea. And as for death ? His smooth-shaven skull
Veiled in the folds of the flag, the amused pimp laughs.
But death's crafty and I don't dare resort to gags.
62 I La Ga/ere
Au fond de notre hiscoire ensommeille je plonge
Et m'ecrangle a ta gorge Harcamone boudeur
Parfume. Sur la mer comme un pois de senteur
Ton mousse ecume fine a sa bouche ecornee
Par les joyeux du ciel sur cette eau recournee
Vole meme a la more appelle a son secours.
Ils le vetent d'ecume et d'algues de velours.
L'amour faisant valser leur bite enturbannee
( Biche bridant l'azur et rose boutonnee )
Les cordes et les corps etaient raides de nceuds.
Et bandait la gale re. Un mot vertigineux
Venu du fond du monde abolit le bel ordre.
Manides et lace ts je vis des gueules mordre.

Helas ma main captive est morte sans mourir.

Les jardins disent non OU la biche est vetue
D'une robe de neige et ma grace la cue
Pour la mieux d'un linceul d'ecume revecir.

La prison qui nous garde a reculons s'eloigne.

En hurlant sa decresse une immobile poigne
A ta vigne me mele a ta feuille aux sarments
De ta voix Harcamone a ses froids ornemencs.
Abandonnons la France et sur notre galere . . .
Le mousse que j 'etais aux mechants devait plaire.
Je ramais en avant du splendide ecrangleur
Done le bel assoupi ou s' enroulent les fleurs
(Liserons denoues roses de la Roquette)
Organisait rieur derriere la braguette
Un bocage adorable ou volent des pinsons.
La biche s' enfuyait au souffie des chansons
D'un galerien penche sur la corde du songe.
 The Galley I 6 3
I dive to the sleepy bottom of our story
And choke at your thick throat Harcamone sweet-smelling
Sulker. On the sea like a sweet pea in a pod
With such fine foam flowing from his mouth,s torn corner
Stolen by the wanton on these troubled waters
Your cabinboy even at death shouts out for help.
They dress him up in foam and seaweed of velvet.
While love was making their turbaned cock dance a waltz
(A doe roping the azure and a budding rose)
The ropes as well as the bodies were stiff with knots.
And the galley had a hardon. A staggering word
From the bottom of the world abolished order.
I saw j aws bite through shoe-laces and hand-leathers.

Alas my captive hand has died without dying.

The gardens say no those in which the doe is dressed
In a robe of snow and in which my grace chokes it
So as to dress it better in a shroud of foam.

The prison that keeps us in the background grows dim.

A motionless fist shouting aloud its distress
Mixes me with your vine, with your leaf, with the shoots
Of your voice, Harcamone, with its cold ornaments.
Let·s abandon France and board our galley . . .
The ship·s boy I once was must have pleased the wicked.
I was rowing in front of the splendid strangler*
Whose fair sleepy genitals flowers wrap around
(U nknotted wild morning-glories, rocket roses)
Were organizing lighthearted behind his fly,
A quite delightful wilderness where finches fly.
The doe was turning tail to the breath of the songs
Of a galley-slave bent over on the dream·s strings.

*Harcamone had violated and strangled a y oung girl, for which crime he
had been sentenced to death.
64 I La Ga/ere

L' arbre du sel au ciel ses rameaux bleus allonge.

Ma solitude chante a mes vepres de sang
Un air de bulles d' or aux levres se pressant.
Un enfant de 1' amour ayant chemise rose
Essayait stir man lit de ravissantes poses.
Un voyou marseillais pale une etoile aux dents
Dans la lutte d' amour avec moi fut perdant.
Ma main passait en fraude un fardeau de detresse
Des cargaisons d 'opium et de forc�ts epaisses
En vallons constelles, parcourait des chemins
A l' ombre de vos yeux pour retrouver vos mains

Vos poches ce nid d'aigle et la porte celebre

Ou le silence emporte un tresor de tenebre.
Mon rire se cassait conrre le vent debout.
Gencive douloureuse offerre avec degout
Aux larves d'un poeme ecrit sans mot ni lettres
Dans l'air d 'une prison ou l'on vient de m'admettre.

Dans r ombre sur le mur de quel navigateur

Son ongle use du sel mais juste a ma hauteur
Parmi les creurs saignants que brouillenr les pensees
Les profils les helas nos armes deposees
Indechiffrable a qui ne se bat dans la nuit
Ou des lo ups sont les mots aura 1' angle qui luit
Laisse de mes yeux fous la clameur devorante
Dechirer jusqu'a l'os le nom d'Andovorante ?
Le fier gaillard d 'avant qui se cabrait de honte
Etait serre de pres par le membre d'un comte.
On le cognait brutal des poings et des genoux.
Des mfiles foudroyes degringolaienr sur nous .
( Les genoux clairs de lumiere et de boue
Les genoux a genoux sur le pont qui s'ebroue
Les genoux ces chevaux qui se cabrent dans l' eau
Les genoux couronnes croupes de matelots )
La rose du soleil s'effeuillait sur les Iles.
 The Galley I 6 5

The tree's blue branches stretch from the sale co the sky.
My solitude sings out co my vespers of blood
A tune of gold bubbles crowding at its lips.
A child of love with a rose-colored shirt on
Was trying out ravishing poses on my bed.
A hoodlum from Marseilles with a scar in his teeth
Was the loser in the struggle of love with me.
My hand contrabanded a burden of distress
From the cargos of opium and chick forests
In scar-scudded valleys, traveled along side-paths
In the s hadow of your eyes co recover your hands,

Your pockets, chis eagle's nest and the famous door

Where silence cakes off with a treasure of darkness.
My laughter was shattered upright against the wind.
A painful gum offered with disgust to the ghosts
Of a poem written without words or letters
I n the air of a prison I 'v e just been let in.

In the cast on the wall of what navigator

Whose fingernail worn with the sale but just my height
Among the bleeding hearts mixed up with confusion
Profiles lamentations our weapons surrendered
Unclear co chose who do not struggle in the night
Where words are the wolves, his shining fingernail will
Have let the devouring clamor of my mad eyes
Rip open the name Andovorante to the bone?
The proud boy of before who was bucking with shame
Had been held tightly against the cock of a count.
We beat him brutally with our fists and our knees.
Some thunderstruck males came tumbling down upon us.
(Those knees shining bright with light and with mud,
Those knees kneeling down upon the snorting bridge,
Those knees, those noble steeds that rear in the water,
Those high and mighty knees crowning sailors' asses)
The sun's rose shed its petals over the Islands.
66 I La Ga/ere
Le navire filait de mysterieux milles.
On criait a voix basse un ordre OU des baisers
Passaient comme des fous sans savoir se poser.
Le fragile re flet d un incassable mousse
·

Une eau dormante en moi l'allongeait sur la mousse.

Vos dents Seigneur, votre reil me parlent de Venise !

Ces oiseaux clans le creux de vos jambes de buis !
A vos pieds cette chaine au ma faineantise
Alourdit encore plus l'erreur qui m'y conduit !

Tant la guipure parle et le rideau denonce.

Les vapeurs du carreau tu les cueilles du doigt.
Ton fin sommeil se noue et ta bouche se fronce
Quand se perd ton bel reil sur une mer de toits.

Un gars bien balance par la vague et le vent

Dans sa gueule ebrechee OU je voyais souvent
S' entortiller la pipe a mes jupes de femmes
Ce gars passait terrible au milieu d'oriflammes.
Un chiourme de vingt ans piteux et bafoue
Se regardait mourir a la vergue cloue.

Harcamone dors-tu la tete renversee

La figure clans l'eau d'un songe traversee
Tu marches sur man sable au tombent en fruits lourds
D'une etrange fa\on res couilles de velours
Eclatant sur mes yeux en fleurs dont I' arbre est fee.
Ce que j 'aime a mourir clans ta voix etouffee
c· est I' eau chaude qui gonfle ce tambour tend u.
Parfois tu dis un mot done le sens est perd u
Mais la voix qui le porte e st si lourde gonflee
Qu'il la creve il ferait de cette vane talee
Couler sur ton menton un flat de sang lepreux
Mon mandrin fier et plus qu'un guerrier colereux.
 The Galley I 67

The galley was easing off mysterious miles.

In a low voice an order was given in which
Kisses flitted like fools not knowing where to land .
Still waters in me stretched the fragile reflection
Of an unbreakable cabinboy on the moss.

Your gaze, Lord, your teeth speak to me about Venice!

These birds in the hollow of your legs of boxwood !
In front of your feet this chain where my laziness
Weighs down even more the error that leads me there !

The pillowlace talks too much , the curtain threatens.

You gather the windowpane's steam with your fingers.
Your light sleep get all knotted up and your mouth knits
When your lovely gaze gets lost on a sea of roofs.

There was once a boy well rocked by wave and by wind

In his disfigured face where I often noticed
The pipe get all entangled in my woman's skirts.
This boy was passing by, terrible midst the banners.
A nventy-year-old galley-slave, pitiable
And jeered at, watched himself die, nailed to the yard-arm.

Harcamone, are you sleeping with your head down turned,

Face down in the familiar waters of a dream?
You walk on my sands where your balls of velvet fall
In a strange way just like heavy weighted fruit
Bursting on my eyes into magic tree flowers.
What I love to death in your suffocated voice
Is the hot water that makes this tightened drum swell.
Sometimes you say a single word whose sense is lost
But the voice bearing it is so heavy swollen
That word bursts voice making a stream of leprous blood
Flow from this badly battered voice onto your chin
My proud bandit more fiery than a warrior.
68 I La Ga/ere

Aux branches d'un jeune arbre a peine rattachees

D'autres fleurs j'ai vole qui couraient en riant
Les pieds sur ma pelouse et mon ombre couchee
Et m'eclaboussant d'eau ces roses s'y baignant.

(Tiges a pleines mains corolles se redressent

Corolles soot de plume et les membres de plomb )
11 sonne un air fatal a leurs vives caresses
Avec l'eau rejetee a coups de fins talons.

Chaudes fleurs qui sortez vers le soir des ruelles

J e suis seul enferme dans un drapeau mouille
De ces humides plis de ces fl amme s cruelles
Belles fleurs qui de vous saura me debrouiller ?

Est-ii pays si frais que celui de nos rires ?

Neige sur les ecueils votre langue lechanc
Le sel d'algues d 'azur sur le vencre ec le chant
Vibrant dans votre corps tourne comme une lyre.

Y poursuivre la biche est un jeu que j 'invente

A mesure. On debrouille une reine emouvance
Exilee et si douce a chaque bond casse
Sous le manteau mouille d'une biche. Glace
De respect je retrouve aux bords de con visage
Une reine captive enchainee au rivage.
Dormez belle Harcamone assassin qui voulez
Les gorges traverser dans mes souliers ailes.

Sur cet i nstant fragile OU tout ecait possible

Nous marchions dans l'azur econne mais paisible.
La galere en desordre ecait d 'une beaute
Moins etrange que douce un visage enchante
Un air de desespoir accompagnait sa fete
 The Galley I 69

Scarcely attached to the branches of a young tree,

I stole other flowers that ran around laughing,
Their feet o n my lawn and on my sprawling shadow,
Splashing me with water, these roses, bathing there.

(Handfuls of green stems, corollas straightening out,

Corollas made of feathers and cocks made of lead)
A tune fatal to their lively caresses sounds
Alo ng with the water, splashed with delicate heel-kicks.

Hot flowers who come out of alleys at evening

All alone I'm shut up in a soaking-wet flag
Fair flowers from these humid folds, these heartless flames,
Which one among you will dare to untangle me ?

Is there a land as cold as that of our laughter?

With abundant snow on the reef your tongue licking
The blue seaweed salt on your stomach, and the song
Throbbing in your body modeled just like a lyre.

Chasing after the doe is a game I make up

I nch by inch. An exiled queen, touching and so sweet,
Is slowly untangled at each broken leap made
Under the wet coat of a doe. Chilled with respect
At the edges of your face, I rediscover
A queen taken captive and chained up to the shore.
Sleep, handsome Harcamone; sleep, assassin, who wants
To make his way through the gorges with my winged shoes.

At that fragile moment where all was possible

We were sailing through the amazed yet calm azure.
The galley i n disorder was of a beauty
That was less strange than it was sweet a spellbound face
An air of despair accompanied its revels
70 I La Ga/ere

( 11 neigeait quelle paix sur la caline tempere ! )

De violons et de valses. Elle avaic sur les bras
Tout son fardeau sacre clans un funebre aura
De colonnes de fl.its de cordes et de torses.
L'Ocean se tordait sous sa fragile ecorce.

Le ciel disait sa messe ii pouvait de nos creurs

Compeer les baccements. Dure ecait la rigueur
De cet ordre terrible ou la beaute cremblait.
Nous allions en silence a cravers des palais
Ou la more solennelle avait passe sa vie.
De remonter a I' air je n' avais plus I' en vie
Ni la force a quoi bon mes amis les plus beaux
S'accommodant du monde er de l'air des combeaux.
Et tous ces clairs enfants volaient clans la voilure.
Le songe vous portant filait a route allure.
La guirlande rompue fut par I'amour nouee
J usqu' aux pieds de la more et la more fut jouee .
Je vivais immobile un moment effrayant
Car je savais saisi ce beau monde fu yan t
Dans une eternite plus dure et plus solide
Que celle de l'Egypte a peine moins sordide.
On quittaic des taureaux par le nreud ecrangle
De trois hommes forme. La main du vent sale
Pardonnait les peches. C' ecait cette galere
u n manege casse par un soir de co le re.
Et pourtant quelle grace emerveillaic mon reil !
Solennel monument cadavres sans cercueil
Cercueils sans ornements nous ecions par le songe
Embaumes empaumes.

Pressez VOS mains d 'eponge !

A mon torse sale po rte vos doigcs d 'amour.
Je saurai revenir des informes detours.
 The Galley I 7 r

(It was snowing such peace over the serene storm ! )

Of violins and waltzes. I t was supporting
All of its holy load in a mournful aura
Of shafts of the columns, of ropes, and of torsos.
The Ocean was writhing behind its fragile shell.

The sky was saying mass and it could count the beats
Of our hearts . So severe was the oppressiveness
Of this dire condition in which beauty trembled.
We were walking silently through palaces
I n which solemn death had spent its entire lifetime.
I didn't have the desire nor strength to ascend
To air again, what good are my fairest friends
Settling down in their world and in its air of tombs.
And all those clear children were flying with swift sails.
The dream carrying you away fled at top speed.
The broken garland had been all tied up by love
Right up to the feet of death and death had been fooled.
Motionless I was living a frightful moment,
Because I was aware that this fair fleeting world
Had been seized in an eternity much harder
And more sordid than Egypt's, hardly less sordid.
We left the bulls behind taking the narrow knot
Fashio ned by three men. The hand of the salty wind
Forgave us for having sinned. That slave-ship was like
A merry-go-round broken by a night of anger.
And yet what charm was filling my eyes with wonder!
A solemn monument corpses without coffins
Coffins without decoration we fell dreamful
I nto death's embalming palms.

Squeeze your spongy hands!

Bring your fingers of love to my salty torso.
I will know how to return from formless detours_.
72 I La Ga/ere
Brouillard au bout des doigts si je touche a ta robe
Animal tu fondras pour d'air bleu devenir.
u ne larme roulant de ton errange globe
Sur ton pied sec a toi biche se doit m'unir.

La bru yere est si rose approche un eve mail

De ta joue un soupir degonfle le silence.
Le hallier se blottit dans I' ombre au lent travail
Je resterai done seul. Qui soupire et s'avance

Nuit ? Sur tes bois s'eveille un vaisseau mal ancre

Dans le ciel. Biche fine un doux bruit de ramure
Ton oreille recueille et tan doigr d 'air dore
Net cassant cette glace ecoute leur murmure . . .

Grappes d 'empoisonneurs suspend us aux cordages

Se bitent les bagnards en melangeant leurs ages.
De la Grande Fatigue un enfant endormi
Revenait nu tache par le sperme vomi.
Et le plus dechirant des sanglots de la voile
Appareiller cueilli comme un rameau d'eroile
Sur mon cou deposait creur et levres d 'un gars
Mettait une couronne achevait les degats.
Mes efforts eraient vains pour retrouver VOS terres.
Ma tete s'enlisait fetide et solitaire
Au fond des mers du lit du songe des odeurs
Jusqu'a je ne sais quelle absurde profondeur.

Un fracas grec soudain fit trembler le navire

Qui s'effa\a lui-meme en un dernier sourire.
Une premiere etoile au ciel d'argot fleurit.
 The Galley I 73

A mist at my fingertips if I touch your coat,

Animal, you'll melt away and become blue air.
A single tear tumbling down from your strange eyeball
Onto your dry foot that ought to bind me to you.

The heather is so pink a fan is approaching

A heavy sigh deflates the silence of your cheek.
The thicket nestles down in the slow-working shade.
I'll stay alone then. Who's sighing and approaching,

Night? A s hip poorly anchored in the sky awakes

Above your forest. Fair doe, your ear gathers up
A sweet noise of leaves; your finger of pure gold air,
Cleanly breaking this ice, listens to their murmur . . .

Clusters of poisoners hung high from the riggings

The prisoners j acking off mixing their ages.
From the Great Sleep a sleeping child came back
Stark naked and spotted all over with spewed sperm.
And the most agonizing of the trimmed sail's sighs,
Gently gathered up j ust like a star's silver bough,
On my neck confided a young guy's heart and lips,
Set a wreath and put an end to the damages.
My attempts to regain your region were in vain.
My head solitary and foul-smelling foundered
To the floor of seas, of the bed of dream, of scents,
Down to I don't know anymore which absurd depth .

A Greek uproar suddenly made the ship tremble

That faded away unseen with a final smile.
A first star burst into bloom in the sky of slang.
 7 4 I La Ga/ere
Ce fut la nuit son nom son silence ec le cri
D'un galerien charmanc connaissanc sa demeure
Dans un bosquet plaintif ou cecte biche pleure
un etre de la nuit done le froc paresseux
B aissa le pont de toile a mon libre vaisseau.
La rose d'eau se ferme au bord de ma main bleue.
(L'ether vibre docile aux sursauts de ma queue.
· De nocturnes velours sonc tendus ces palais
Que traversait mon chibre et que cu desolais
A bondir sans detours jusqu' aux ecoiles nues
Parcourant le pied vif de froides avenues)
Sur le ciel cu t'epands Harcamone ! ec froisse
Le ciel clair s' est couvert mais d'un gesce amuse.

Un cavalier chancait du ciel a la galere

Par les ascres geles le sysceme solaire.

Escaladanc la nue et l 'ecernelle nuic

Qui fixa la galere au ciel pur de r ennui
Sur les pieds de la Vierge appelanc les abeilles ?
Astres . je vous degueule ec ma peine est pareille
Harcamone a ta main ca main morce qui pend.
Enroule autour de moi o mon rosier grimpanc
Tes j ambes ec ces bras mais referme res ailes
Ne laissons rien trainer ni limes ni ficelles.
Pas de traces sorcons saucons dans ces chariots
Que j ' ecouce rouler sous ton mince maillot.

Mais je n' ai plus d' espoir on m' a coupe ces ciges

Adieu marlou du soir de dix-sepc a vingc piges.

Voyage sur la lune ou la mer je ne sais

Harcamone au cou rose entoure d'un lacer.
 The Galley I 75

It was the night, his name, his silence, and the cry
Of a charming galley-slave knowing his dwelling
In a sorrowful grove where the doe cries her eyes
Out for a creature of the night whose idle frock
Lowered the bridge made of cloth to my free vessel.
The water-rose closes shut as my blue hand nears.
(The air vibrates gently to the pumps of my prick.
With nocturnal velvet are spread those palaces
That my prick passed through and that you devastated
Leaping straightforward to the stars above
Covering with a lively foot cold avenues)
Over the sky you spread, Harcamone ! Disheveled,
The clear sky clouded but with an amused gesture.

A horseman sang out from the sky to the slave-ship

By way of the frozen stars, the solar system.

Scaling the cloud up high and the eternal night

Who fastened the ship in the pure sky of boredom
To the feet of the Virgin calling to the bees ?
Stars, you nauseate me and my pain's similar,
Harcamone, to your hand, your dead hand that's hanging.
Come and wrap your legs and your arms up around me
But close your wings up tight, 0 my climbing rosebush,
Don't let anything trail behind, filings or string.
No traces, let's go, let's jump in these chariots
That I hear thundering under your thin skivvies.

But I've no more hope, those stems have been cut on me.
Farewell, my fair teenaged pander of the evening.

Harcamone, whose pink neck has a noose around it,

Journeys on the moon or on the sea, I'm not sure.
76 I La Ga/ere

0 ma belle egorgee au fond de l'eau tu marches

Portee a chaque pas sur tes parfums epais
Sur leur vague qui frise et se deforme apres
Et tu traverses lente un labyrinthe d ·arches.

Dans r eau de tes erangs de noirs roseaux se trainent

A ton torse a tes bras se noue un echeveau
De ces rumeurs de mort plus fort que les chevaux
Emmeles l'un dans l'autre aux brancards d'une reine.
 The Galley / 77

Your throat slit, my fair one, you walk on the bottom

Of the sea, carried at each step on your dense scents,
On their wave that curls up and deforms aftenvards,
And you carefully cross a labyrinth of arches.

In the waters of your pools black reeds are crawling.

To your torso and arms, a skein of these rumors
Of death gets snarled, a skein stronger than the horses,
Tangled one with another in the carriage shafts of a queen.
 L A PA R A D E

T H E PA R A D E
Bo I La Parade
SI LENCE, il fauc veiller ce soir
Chacun p rendre a ses meuces garde.
Et ne s'allonger ni s'asseoir
De la mort la noire cocarde

Piquer son creur et I' en fleurir

D'un baiser que le sang colore.
11 faut veiller se retenir
Aux cordages clairs de l'aurore.

Enfant charmanc hauc est la tour

Ou d 'un pied de neige cu monces.
Dans la ronce de tes acours
Penchent les roses de la honce.

O N CHAN TE dans la cour de l'Esc

Le silence eveille les hommes.
Silence coupe d'ombre er c'est
De fiers encules que nous sommes.

Silence encor il faut veiller

Le Bourreau ignore la fece
Quand le ciel sur con oreiller
Par les cheveux prendra ca cece.
 The Parade I 8r

QUIET, keep close watch this evening

Each one keep an eye on his pack.
And neither sit nor stretch body
Lest the rosette of death so black

Make his heart blossom with the prick

Of a tender kiss that blood stains.
Keep close watch and hold yourself in
Till the bright rigging of daybreak.

Charming child tall is the tower

Where in one foot of snow you climb.
In the bramble of your attire
Roses of shame outward incline.

SOMEONE ' S SINGING in the east wing

Silence keeps men on the lookout.
Silence is cut with shadowings
And all of us are proud butt-fucks.

Quiet, keep your partying low

The executioner's mindless
When the sky is on your pillow
By the hair he'll come take your head.
82 I La Parade
DANS LA NUIT du 1 7 au 1 8 j uin, eut lieu, au camp
de la Parade, l' execution capitale de trente mille ado­
lescents. Des millions d' etoiles, les eclats du mica, du
sucre, les ronces, les chevre-feuilles, les petits dra­
peaux en papier, les tracts du ciel, la gloire des eaux,
les grandes vacances des enfants, le Deuil, !'Absence
voulurent apporter leur concours.
Sans le savoir, la presse parla beaucoup de cet en­
fant qu'un charmeur de serpent enculait, a demi-mort
dans les cordages.

ESCLAVES d'un peche qui vous maintient en deuil

Vous tordez I' assassin par mes poignets d'ecume ;
Ses eris, ses crimes bleus egouttent dans votre reil
L'encre qui vous revele et de mort vous embrume .

0 mes pfiles larrons, gardez ce fils des dieux,

Qu'il creve ! C'est sa more votre noir uniforme.

Or l'enfant, sur la paille allonge au fond des cieux,

Ses chevilles de feuille afin qu'elles s'endorment.

CANAILLE oserez-vous me mordre une autre fois

Retenez que je suis le page du Monarque
Yous roulez sous ma main comme un floe sous ma barque
Votre houle me gonfle, o ma caille des bois

Ma caille emmitouflee, ecrasee sous mes doigts.

 The Parade I 83

DURING THE NIGHT of June 1 7 th, in the camp of the

Parade, 30,000 adolescents were guillotined. Millions
of stars, sparks of mica, sugar, brambles, honeysuckle,
small paper flags, tracts of sky, the glory of waters,
children's summer vacations, Mourning, Absence, all
wanted to attend.
Without knowing, the press spoke much about this
child that a snake-charmer had been fucking, found
half-dead in the rigging.

SLAVES of a sin that keeps you in constant mourning

You twist the assassin with my foam-covered fists;
His cries, his blue crimes in your eye keep on draining
The ink that reveals and covers you with death's mist.

My pale thieves, keep a careful eye on this gods' son,

Let him die, and his death becomes your uniform.

Now the child, on straw stretches out in heaven's deep

His leaf-light ankles so that they may fall asleep.

Do YOU DARE bite me once again dirty scoundrel

Remember I am the pageboy of the Monarch
Under my hand, like a billow below my barque
You roll, your swell blows me up, 0 my forest quail

My muffled pet, under my hand so firmly quelled.

84 I La Parade
I

TRANS PARENT voyageur des virres du hallier

Par la route du sang revenu dans ma bouche
Les doigrs charges de lune er le pas eveille.
Jen tends bartre le soir endormi sur ma couche.

II

VOTRE AME est d e rerour des confins d e moi-meme

Prisonniere d'un ciel aux paresseux chemins
Ou dormait simplement dans le creux d'un poeme
Une nuit de voleur sous le ciel de ma main.

UNE AVALAN CHE rose est morre enrre nos draps.

Cerce rose musclee ce lustre d'Opera
Tombe du sommeil, noir de eris er de fougeres
Qu'installe autour de nous une main de bergere,
Cerce rose s'eveille !
Sous les haubans de deuil que le come appareille !
Vibrants clairons du ciel tour parcourus d' abeilles
Apaisez les sourcils crispes de mon boxeur.
Bouclez le corps noue de la rose en sueur.
Qu'il dorme encor. Je veux l'enrorriller de langes
Afin de nous savoir cruels denicheurs d'anges
Et pour que plus errange et sombre, chez les fleurs
Soit au reveil, ma more avec fasre pleuree
Par ces serpents rordus, cerre neige apeuree.
0 la voix d 'or battu, dur gamin querelleur
Que res larmes sur mes doigts que res larmes coulenr
De res yeux arraches par le bee d'une poule
Qui picorair en songe, ici les yeux, ailleurs
Des graines preparees
Par cette main legere ouverte a mon voleur.
 The Parade f 85

FROM PA NES of the thicket, transparent traveler,

By the route of blood now returning to my mouth,
With steady wide-awake steps and moon-charged fingers.
I hear the eve ning beating asleep on my couch.

II

YOUR S O U L i s back from the confines of m y prison

Prisoner of a sky of lazy paths of flight
Where so calmly in the hollow of a poem
Under the sky of my hand had slept one thiefs night.

A P I N K A VA LANCHE has died between our bedsheets.

This muscular rose, this opera chandelier,
Falle n from sleep, black with cries and with ferns
That a shepherd's hand installs around us,
This rose is waking up !
Under the shrouds of mourning that the story spreads !
Soundi ng clarions in the sky aswarm with bees
Soothe the knitted eyebrows of my boxer.
Lock up the knotted body of the sweating rose .
Let him sleep more. I want to wrap him up
So that we '11 know we 're cruel robbers of the cradle
And so that on waking, my death, pretentiously mourned
By these twisted snakes, by this frightened snow,
Will be stranger and dimmer, among the flowers.
0 voice of forged gold , hard , quarrelsome kid,
May your tears on my fingers freely flow
From your eyes plucked out by a chicken 's beak
That in a d ream pecked at, here the eyes, there
Seeds alre ady prepared
By that light-fingered hand open to my thief.
86 I La Parade
TES P I E DS BLE US traverses d'eroiles et de branches
Tu cours sur mon rivage et bondis dans ma main
Mais ose cet amour que ton rire declenche
Hardiment le fouler de res pi eds inhumains !

Tu t'eveilles de moi avec leur promptitude

Les spectres de mes dents, pour banter l'escalier
Si rapide il faut done Guy que ma solitude
Par toi-meme soir roi mon creur multiplie

Mais pour me parcourir enleve res souliers.

 The Parade I 87

WITH B LUE FEET alive with stars and branches

You run on my shore and spring in my hand
But does this love that your wild laughter frees
Dare stamp over it with inhuman feet!

With the promptness of my teeth's ghosts you wake

From within me, to haunt the quick staircase
Therefore, Guy, my heart multiplied by you,
My loneliness now will have to be you.

But to roam my body take off your shoes.

 ;..._-_ -· . · . .· ,,,;. ·, ·, �
..... ·.. �. -· -· . ;r�
. -�·

._ 1I
-.-. .
� I •

_.., • !___!_ ••
·.

.. ..
•

.:..
-,...-_-. . .. , --..-
-.. I • - -- -• ...
_ . ..

- .. � -· .
--.,
.
.
. · -- '

,_____ � -:-- �
----
--.----
U N C H A N T D 'A M O U R
a
LUC I E N
Senemaud

A S O N G O F L O VE
for
LUC I E N
Senemaud
90 I Un Chant d'Amour
B E RG E R, descends du ciel ou dorment res brebis !
(Au duvet d'un berger bel Hiver je re livre )
Sous mon haleine encor si ron sexe est de givre
Aurore le defait de ce fragile habit.

Est-il question d 'aimer au lever du soleil ?

Leurs chants dorment encor dans le gosier des parres.
Ecartons nos rideaux sur ce decor de marbre ;
Ton visage ahuri saupoudre de sommeil.

0 ta grace m' accable er je rourne de l' reil

Beau navire habille pour la noce des Iles
Et du soir. Haute vergue ! Insulte difficile.
0 mon Continent noir ma robe de grand deuil !

Cole re en grappes d'or un instant hors de Dieu

( 11 respire er s'e ndort ) soulage de vous rendre.
Aide de vorre main je crois le ciel descendre
Et tendre deposer ses ganrs blancs sur nos yeux.

C'est sa douceur surrour qui r'isole er repand

Sur ton front delicat cerre pluie de novembre.
Quelle ombre quelle afrique enveloppenr res membres
Crepuscule de l'aube habire d'un serpent !

Valse feuille a l' envers er brouillards egares

A quel arbre nouez, fleur du vent cerre echarpe ?
Mon doigt casse le gel au bois de votre harpe
Fille des joncs de bout les cheveux separes.

Au bord de ma casquette un brin de noiserier

De travers accroche r Oreille me charouille.
Dans votre cou j'ecoute un oiseau qui bafouille.
Et dorment me s chevaux debout dans le senrier.
 A Song of Lot'e I 9r

S HE PHERD come down from the sky to where your sheep sleep!
(I give you up fair Winter to the shepherd's down)
If with my breath your cock is still covered with frost
Dawn will undo it of its delicate clothing.

Is it a question of loving at break of day?

Their songs are still sleeping in the shepherds' windpipes.
(Let's draw aside our curtains on this marble setting)
Your face dusted with sleep and marked with confusion.

0 your charm overwhelms me and I'm getting dizzy

Handsome vessel dressed for the wedding of the Isles
With the evening. 0 lofty foremast! Vile insult
0 my black continent, my gown of deep mourning!

Anger in gold clusters a moment outside God

(He's breathing and drowsing) relieved from fetching you.
Helped by your hand, I chink the sky is coming down,
And is gencly laying its white gloves on our eyes.

His meek ne ss above all isolates you and spreads

This rain of November on your fragile forehead.
What shadow, what africa wraps your genitals,
Dusk of dawn inhabited by a rattlesnake!

A waltz leaf turned upside-down and fogs gone astray

To which tree, windflower, would you tie up chis scarf?
My finger breaks the fros t on the wood of your harp
Girl of reeds, upright, hair parted down the middle.

On the brim of my cap a shoot of hazelcree

Is fastened the wrong way and tickles my ear.
I n your neck I hear a bird chattering away.
My steeds are sleeping upright in the bridlepach.
92 I Un Chant d'Amour
Caressant l'reil distrait l'epaule de la mer
(Ma sandale est mouillee a l'aile decousue )
Je sens ma main gonflee sous ca chaleur moussue
S'emplir de blancs croupeaux invisibles clans l'air.

Vont paitre mes agneaux de ca hanche a con cou,

Brouter une herbe fine et du soleil bn1lee,
Des fleurs d'acacia dans ca voix sonc roulees
Va l' abeille voler le miel de leurs echos.

Mais le vert pavillon des rodeurs de la mer

Doit veiller quelque part, se prendre clans les poles.
Secouer la nuit, l'azur, en poudrer VOS epaules
Dans vos pieds ensables percer des sources d' air.

Pour me remonter nu sur de bleus escaliers

Solennels et sombranc dans ces vagues de reves
Las de perir sans fin a deux doigts de mes levres
L'Horizon s'endormaic dans vos bras replies.

Vos bras nus vonc hennir ecarcelanc ma nuic.

Damien ces noirs chevaux evencrenc I'eau profonde
Au galop m'emporcez cencaures nes du vencre.
Bras d'un negre qui meurc si le sommeil me fuic.

]'ai pare de rubans, de roses leurs naseaux,

De chevelure encor aux filles depouillees,
]' ai voulu caresser leur robe ensoleillee
De mon bras allonge au-dessus du ruisseau !

Votre epaule retive a re jete ma main :

Elle meurt desolee a mon poignet docile :
Main qui se hate en vain coupee, mais plus agile
(Les cing doigts d'un voleur aux ongles de carmin) .
 A Song of Love I 93

C aressing the wandering eye, the sea's shoulder

(My sandal is wet and unsewn around the edge)
I feel my swollen hand under your mossy heat
Fill up with white flocks invisible in the air.

My lambs go to feed from your hips up to your neck,

Grazing a field of grass fine yet burnt by the sun,
And the bee will steal the honey of the echoes
Of the acacia blossoms rolled within your voice.

But the green flag of the wanderers of the sea

Has to keep watch somewhere, be caught between the poles.
Shake the night, azure, powder your shoulders with it
And stab springs of air in your feet covered with sand .

To raise me again naked on a blue staircase

So solemn and foundering in these waves of dreams
Weary of endless perishing close to my lips
The horizo n fell asleep in your folded arms.

Your naked arms will whinny quartering my night.

Damien, these black steeds disembowel the deep waters.
Carry me away, gut-born centaurs, at top speed.
Arms of a negro who will die if sleep flees me.

I adorned their nostrils with fresh roses, with hair

Belonging to despoiled girls, with colored ribbons.
0 how I wanted to caress their sunlit coats
With my arm stretched out above the glittering stream !

My h and was re jected by your balky shoulder:

It d angles broken-hearted at my docile wrist:
Hand that hastens in vain, hacked off yet more agile
(The five fingers of a thief with nails of carmine).
94 I Un Chant d'A.mour
Tant de mains sur le bord des chemins et des bois :
Aupres de votre col elle aimait vivre nue
Mais un monstre a vox yeux a peine devenue
Sur ma main le talon je baiserai vos doigcs.

Fusille par surprise un soldat me sourit

D'une treille de sang sur le mur de chaux blanche.
Le lambeau d'un discours accroche clans les branches,
Et dans l'herbe une main sur des orteils pourris.

)e parle d'un pays ecorche jusqu'a I' OS .

France aux yeux parfumes vous etes notre image.
Douce comme ses nuits, peut-etre davancage
Et comme elles, blessee o France, a demi-mot.

Lente ceremonie au son de vingc tambours

Voiles. Cadavres nus promenes par la ville.
Sous la lune un cortege avec cuivres de.file,
Dans vos vallons boises, au moment des labours.

Pauvre main qui va fondre ! Et vous sautez encor

Dans l'herbe. D'une plaie ou du sang sur les pierres
Qui peut naitre, quel page et quel ange de lierre
M' etouffer ? Quel soldat portant vos ongles mores ?

Me coucher a ces pieds qui defrisent la mer ?

Belle histoire d'amour : un enfant du village
Aime la sentinelle errante sur la plage
Ou l'ambre de ma main attire un gars de fer !

Dans son torse, endormie - d'une etrange fa�on

Creme use amande, ecoile, o fillecce enroulee
- Ce tintement du sang dans l'azur de l'allee
C'est du soir le pied nu sonnant sur mon gazon.
 A Song of Love I 95
So many hands on the edge of the paths and woods :
I t liked living naked near your collar so much
But shortly in your eyes it became a monster.
With your heel on my hand I will kiss your fingers.

Shot by surprise a soldier is smiling at me

Before a trellis of blood on the white-washed wall.
The shreds of a conversation caught in branches,
And in the grass a hand resting on rotten toes.

I 'm speaking of a country skinned down to the bone.

0 France with perfumed eyes you are our reflection.
Gentle like her nights, yet maybe even more so
And like her nights, wounded, 0 France, take the small hint.

A slow ceremony with the sound of twenty

Muffled drums. Naked corpses paraded through town.
U oder the moon a procession with brass marches
Through your wooded valleys at the time of ploughing.

My poor hand is going to melt! And you still jump

Through the grass. From blood on stones or an open wound
Who can be born, what page and angel of ivy
Can smother me ? What soldier wearing your dead nails ?

To lie down next t o these feet that uncurl the sea?

A fine story of love : a child of the village
Loves the sentry wandering by the water's edge
Where the am ber of my hand lures a boy of steel!

I n his torso, fast asleep-in such a strange way

Cream-colored almond, star, 0 little girl curled up­
Tinkling of blood in the blue of the avenue
I t's the bare foot of evening stamping on my lawn.
96 I Un Chant d'Amour

CETTE FORME est de rose et vous garde si pur.

Conservez-la. Le soir deja vous developpe
Et vous m, apparaissez ( otees tomes VOS robes )
Enroule dans vos draps ou debout contre un mur.

Ose ma levre au bord de ce perale ourle

Mal secoue cueillir une goutte que tombe,
Son lait gonfle mon cou comme un col de colombes.
0 restez une rose au perale emperle.

Epineux fruits de mer m' ecorchent res rayons.

Mais l'ongle fin du soir saura fendre l'ecorce.
Boire ma langue rose a ces bords route force.
Si mon creur retenu dans l'or d'un faux chignon

Chavire ancre vivant sans pouvoir se vomir

Dans une mer de bile a ton sexe attelee
Je parcours immobile en d'immenses foulees
Ce monde sans bonte ou tu me vois dormir.

]e roule sous la mer et ta vague au-dessus

Travaille ses essieux tordus par res orages
Pourtant j'irai tres loin car le ciel a l'ouvrage
Du fil de I' horizon dans un drap m' a cousu.

A UTO UR DE TA MAISON je rode sans espoir.

Mon fouet triste pend a mon cou. ]e surveille
A travers les volets tes beaux yeux ces charmilles
Ces palais de feuillage ou va mourir le soir.
 A Song of Love I 97

MA INTA I N THIS FORM which keeps you so pure, so rose-like.

The evening is already developing you
And you appear (with all of your clothes taken off)
Wrapped up in your sheets or standing against a wall.

On the edge of this scarcely shaken hemmed petal

My lip dares to gather a drop that is falling,
Its milk makes my neck swell like the neck of a dove.
0 don't change, remain a rose with pearly petal.

Spiny sea-urchins, your needle-like spikes flay me.

But the fingernail of the evening will crack your shell.
And my pink tongue will drink in big gulps at its edge.
If my heart, held in the gold of a false hairdo,

Capsizes; anchored alive, unable to heave

Itself into a sea of bile yoked to your prick,
I'll keep on traveling steadfast with immense strides
Through this unkindly world where you see me sleeping.

I roll round below the sea, and your wave above

Works away on its axles buckled by your storms.
Yet I will go very far, for the sky at work
Has sewn me up in a sheet with horizon's thread.

AROUND YOUR HOUSE I prowl without the slightest hope.

My sad whip hangs from my neck. And yet I observe
Through the shutters your beautiful eyes, these bowers,
These palaces of leaves where evening will soon die.
98 I Un Chant d'Amour
Siffle des airs voyous, marche le regard dur,
Dans les joncs ton talon ecrasant des couvees
Decoupe clans le vent en coquilles dorees
L'air des matins d'avril et cravache l'azur,

Mais vois qu'il ne s'abime et s'effeuille a res pieds

0 toi mon clair soutien, des nuits la plus fragile
Etoile, entre dentelle et neige de ces iles
D' or res epaules, blanc le doigt de I' amandier.
 A Song of Love I 99

Whistle hustler tunes, walk with looks ready co kill,

Your heel crushing nests among the reeds, whip the sky
And in the shape of golden seashells in the wind
High above cue out the morning air of April,

But see it doesn 't sink and lose leaves at your feet,
0 you are my true strength, the most delicate scar
Of the nights, between lace and snow of these islands
Your gold shoulders, white fingers of the almondcree.
- - - .

- .
.
- --- -

.. --.:.:-. .. ·....- ' -

L E P :E C H E U R D U S U Q U E T *

THE FI S HERMAN
OF THE S UQUET

* I n che 1 9 5 3 Gallimard edicion chis poem is ded icaced co Lucien Senemaud,

Gene c's lover of che lace r 94os. The Suquec is a quarcer, med ieval in scruccure,
i n Can ne s, sicuaced near che pore.
1 02 I Le Pecheur du SuqNet

U N E C O M P LICITe, un accord s'ecablissenc encre ma

bouche et la queue - encore invisible dans son shore
azur - de ce pecheur de dix-huic ans ;

Autour de lui le temps, l'air, le paysage devenaienc in­

decis. Couche sur le sable, ce que j' en apercevais en ere
les deux branches ecarcees de ses jambes nues, cremblait.

Le sable gardait la trace de ses pieds, mais gardaic aussi la

trace du paquet crop lourd d'un sexe emu par la chaleur
et le trouble du soir. Chaque criscau ecincelaic.

- Comment c'appelles-cu ?
- Et toi ?

Depuis cette nuit le voleur aime cendremenc I' enfanc

malicieux, leger, fancasque et vigoureux done le corps
fait frissonner, a son approache, I' eau, le ciel, les rochers,
les maisons, les gar�ons et les filles. Ee la page sur quoi
j 'ecris.
Ma patience est une medaille a con revers.
Une poussiere d'or flotte aucour de lui. L'eloigne de
moi.

Avec le soleil de vocre visage vous eces plus cenebreux

qu'un gitan.
Ses yeux : parmi les chardons, les epines noires, la robe
vaporeuse de I' aucomne.
Sa queue : mes levres retroussees sur mes dents.
Ses mains eclairenc les objets. Les obscurcissenc encore.
Les animent et les cuent.
Le gros orteil de son pied gauche, a l'ongle incarne,
quelquefois fouille ma narine, quelquefois ma bouche.
II est enorme mais le pied , puis la jambe y passeraienc.
 The Fisherman of the SNquet I 103

A C O M P L I C ITY, a consen t are established between my

mouth and the cock- still hidden in his blue shorts-of
this eighteen-year-old fisherman ;

Around him time, atmosphere, scenery were becoming

indefinable. Lying on the sand , what I could see of
them between the two spread branches of his naked
legs was trembling.

The sand kept the impression of his feet, as well as the

impression of his overweight sex aroused by the heat
and the uneasiness of the evening. Each tiny crystal was
sparkling.

-What's your name ?

-And yours ?

Since that night the thief has tenderly loved the mis­
chievous, impulsive , whimsical and vigorous child whose
approaching body makes water, sky, rocks, houses, boys
and girls shudder. And the page I write on.
My patience is a medal on your lapel.
A gold dust floats around him, keeps him away from me.
Regardless of your sunny face you are shadier than a
gypsy.
His eyes : among the thistles, the black thorns, the
vaporous gown of autumn.
His cock : my lips curled up over my teeth.
His hands illuminate ob jects, dim them, enliven and kill
them.
The big toe of his left foot, with its ingrown toenail,
sometimes explores my nostril, sometimes my mouth.
lt•s enormous, but then his foot and leg would also
m ake their way.
104 j Le Pecheur du Suquet
TU VEUX P�CH E R a la fonte des neiges
Dans mes etangs de bagues retenus
Ah dans mes beaux yeux plonger tes bras nus
Que d 'acier noir deux rangs de cils protegent
Sous un ciel d 'orage et de hauts sapins
Pecheur mouille couvert d 'ecailles blondes
Dans tes yeux mes doigts d 'osier mes pales mains
Voient les poissons les plus tristes du monde
Fuir, de la rive OU j' emiette man pain.

Tremble. Au sommet de toi seul balance

Ton talon rose accroche a la ramure
Le soleil levant. Tremble ton murmure
Frissonne sur mes dents. Tes doigts casses
Peignent l' azur et dechirent l' ecorce
0 tremble qui te fait doux et frange
De neige. Erige, exige ce rorse
Blesse profond mais de plume allege.
A s'epanouir mes levres le forcent.

Quand le soleil allume la bruyere

Lentement sur vos pentes beaux mallets
Je vais par les roes d'ou tu me parlais
Spahi blond a genoux dans la lumiere.
u n serpent s' eveille a la voix des marts.
Sous man pied creve des perdrix s'envolem.
Au couchant je verrai les chercheurs d'or
Faire leur travail sous la lune folle.
Les briseurs de tombeaux tirer au sort.
 The Fisherman of the Suquet I 10 5
AT SNOW'S MELTING you wane co go fishing
In my pools held back by rings from harm
And into my eyes plunge your naked arms
That two black steel eyelashes are shielding
Under a sky of storm and tall pinetrees
Fisherman wet and covered with blond scales
My fingers of wicker my pale hands see
I n your eyes the saddest fish that prevail
From the bank where I crumble my bread flee.

Aspen. On my teeth your whispers shiver.

Poised at your lone peak your pink heel catches
And hooks the rising sun to the branches
Of the tree. Aspen, whose broken fingers
Paint the horizon, tear the tree's cortex,
0 aspen, that makes you so soft and fringed
With snow. Get up, get up, insists this chest
Profoundly hurt yet so feather-lightened.
My lips make him open up to my quest.

When the moorland receives sun's morning rays

Over your slopes such handsome legs slowly
I roam the rocks where you once spoke co me
Blond spahi kneeling in the light of day.
A s nake wakes up at the voice of the dead.
From under my tired foot partridges soar.
I will see the gold-panners at day's end
Under the madness of the moon labor.
The comb-breakers draw lots on the long dead.
106 I Le Pecheur du Suquet
Que d 'ombre a tes pieds tes souliers vernis !
Tes pieds glaces dans mes erangs de larmes
Tes pieds poudres et dechausses de Carme
Eclabousses de ciel res pieds benis
Marqueront ce soir mes blanches epaules
( Forets que la lune peuple de loups)
0 mon pecheur a l'ombre de mes saules,
Bourreau couvert d' eroiles et de clous
Debout, ten u par le bras blanc du mole.

A l 'arbre vert dresse - ton front penche

(Animal d 'amour arbre d 'or a deux tetes)
Sur son feuillage - enlace chaude bete
Par un seul pied tu restes accroche,
Sonne dans l'azui:- une valse Iente
A !'harmonica mais tes yeux voient-ils
Du mat de misaine une aube etonnante ?
0 pecheur nu de r arbre au creur subtil
Descends, descends, crains mes feuilles qui chantent.

Adieu Reine du Ciel, adieu ma Fleur

De peau decoupee dans ma paume.
0 mon silence habite d'un fantome,
Tes yeux, tes_doigts, silence. Ta pfileur.
Silence encor ces vagues sur les marches
Ou chaque fois con pied pose la nuit.
Un angelus clair tinte sous son arche.
Adieu soleil qui de mon creur s' enfuit
Sur une atroce et nocturne demarche.
 The Fisherman of the Suquet I r o7

Your glossy shoes ! Such shadows at your feet

Your frozen feet in pools of tears we share
Your white Carmelite feet powdered and bare
Bespattered with sky-blue your blessed feet
Will mark my white shoulders tonight I know
(The moon populates with wild dogs such scrubs)
0 fisherman shaded by my willows,
0 tormentor covered with stars and studs
Held up by the white arm of the harbor.

Your head sticking out from the greenery

(Love animal golden tree with two heads)
Hot and savage beast still caught in the web
Of the erect tree by one of your feet,
A slow harmonica waltz is sounding
Up in the blue sky, but do your eyes see
From the foremast a dawn so surprising ?
0 naked fisherman from this shrewd tree
Come down, come down and fear my leaves that sing.

Farewell Queen of the Heavens, narcissus

Of skin cut out in the palm of my hand.
0 a phantom inhabits my silence
Your eyes, your fingers, silence. Your paleness.
Silence these waves on a winding stairway
Where your foot at each step lays down the night.
An angelus to heaven finds its way.
Farewell 0 sun leaving my heart at night
Suddenly and at an atrocious gait.
108 I Le Pecheur du Sttquet
Mon pecheur descendait le soir des maisons bleues
Et je le recevais sur me deux mains tendues.
II souriait. La mer nous tirait par les pieds.
Pendus a sa ceinture et les cheveux mouilles
U ne grappe doree de huit tetes de filles
( Sa ceinture est doutee et sous la lune brille )
Le reproche dans l'reil, s'eronnaient de leur mart.
Le pecheur se mirait dans le ciel, pres du port.

Enfouis sous vos pieds les tresors de la nuit

Sur des chemins de braise allez en souplesse.
La paix est avec vous.
Dans les orties, les ajoncs, les prunelliers, les forets, votre pas
Depose des mesures de tenebres .
Et chacun de vos pieds, chaque pas de jasmin
M' ensevelit dans une tombe de porcelaine.
Vous obscurcissez le monde.

Les tresors de cette nuit : l'Irlande et ses revoltes,

let rats musques fuyant dans les landes, une arche
de lumiere, le vin remonte de ton estomac, la
noce dans la vallee, au pommier en fleur un
pendu qui se balance, enfin cette region que
l'on aborde le creur dans la gorge, dans ta culotte
protegee d'une aubepine en fleur.

De toutes parts les pelerins descendent.

Ils contournent tes hanches au le soleil se couche,
Gravissent avec peine les pentes boisees de tes cuisses
Ou meme le jour ii fait nuit.
 The Fisherman of the Suquet I 109
At night my fisherman fell from the blue houses
And I received him upon my two hands outstretched .
He was smiling. The ocean was reeling us in.
Hanging from his belt and his hair smoothly moistened
A golden cluster of girls' heads numbered at eight
(His belt is scudded and shines under the moonlight)
Reproachful eyes marvelling the end of their lives.
Near the pore, he admired himself against the sky.

With the treasures of the night buried under your feet

Along paths of live charcoal, go lithely.
Peace is with you.
Among nettles, furze, blackthorns, forests, your seeps
Lay down measurements of shadows.
And each foot, each seep of jasmine
Buries me under in a porcelain grave.
You darken che world.

Treasures of chis night: Ireland and her revolts,

muskrats fleeing across wastelands, an arch
of light, the wine you threw up,
che wedding in the valley, a hanged man swinging
from a blossoming applecree; in shore, chis region
that one, heart in mouth, reaches in your shores,
protected by a blossoming whicechorn.

Pilgrims are descending from everywhere.

They go around your hips where the sun is setting
And with difficulty are climbing up the wooded slopes of your chi�
Where even in the daytime it's night.
1 r o I Le Pecheur du Suquet
Par d,herbeuses landes, sous ta ceinture
Debouclee nous arrivons la gorge seche
L' epaule et les pieds las, aupres de Lui.
Dans son rayonnement le Temps meme est voile
d,un crepe au-dessus duquel le soleil, la lune,
et }es etoi}eS, VOS yeux, VOS pleurs brillent peut-etre.
Le Temps est sombre a son pied.
Rien n,y fleurit que d' erranges fleurs violettes
De ces bulbes rugueux.
A notre creur portons nos mains jointes
Et les poings sur nos dents.

Qu,est-ce f aimer ? Jai peur de voir cette eau couler

Entre mes pauvres doigts. Je n' ose t,avaler.
Ma bouche e ncor modele une vaine colonne.
Legere elle descend dans un brouillard d, automne.
Jarrive dans ramour comme on entre dans reau,
Les paumes en avant, aveugle, mes sanglots
Retenus gonflent d' air ta presence en moi-meme
Ou ta presence est lourde, eternelle. Je t'aime.
 The Fisherman of the Suquet I rrr

Across grassy wastelands, below your unbuckled belt

We make our way with dry throats
Tired shoulders and feet, to Him.
In his radiance even Time is veiled
by a mourning band under which the sun, the moon,
the scars, your eyes, and maybe even your tears shine.
Time is dark and gloomy at his foot.
N aching but strange purple flowers grow there
From these gnarled bulbs.
Lee's raise our joined hands to our heart
And our fists co our teeth.

What's loving you? I 'm scared to see this water flow

Between my poor fingers. You I dare not swallow.
My mouth is still modeling an idle column.
Lightly it falls down into a fog of autumn.
I make my way into love as one does the sea,
Palms stretched outward , blinded, your presence within me
Is swelling with the sobs that I hold back from you
Your presence is heavy, eternal. I love you.
1 12 I Le Pecheur du Suquet
M A I S I L FOND dans ma bouche. N'esr-ce qu'un vers.
Pour quelle fille et quel j ardin ? Quel reve l' assoupit, le
roule en lui-meme, delicatemenr le rourment, lui donne
cette lente, molle colique ?
- Tu me dedaignes ?
Mais quelle tendresse ne doir-il appeler a lui pour re­
troµver ici ce qu'ailleurs lui offrent a profusion ses reves !
Quels bouquets de fleurs coupees, jerees, pour oublier
ses bosquets !
Je caresse la petite masse de chair, penaude, qui se blor­
tit dans ma main, et je regarde res yeux : j 'y vois tres loin
!'animal tendre qui donne cette tendresse a ta queue.
Tu essayes de remonter jusqu'a moi. Quelques vagues y
parviennent. Ce rce ecume a tes yeux le prouve. Mais le
plus grave de toi reste dans tes profondeurs. Er c' est la
que tu sombres.
Si je prete l'oreille, j 'entends ta voix m'appeler, mais elle
e st si bien entortillee au chant des sirenes que je ne
saurais la demeler pour la tirer pure jusqu'a mon oreille.
Pourrant je ne t' abandonnerai pas.
- II se retire ?

11 se retire en moi.
To us ses baisers d'excuses ajourent encore a la nuit qui
s'intalle en moi et autour de moi.
Meurs de mes mains. Meurs sous mes yeux.
Je dois rendre la situation le plus obscur possible (et
tendue a craquer) afin que le drame soit inevitable, afin
que nous le puissions mettre sur le compre de la fatalite.
Un sang noir de ja coule de sa bouche et de sa bouche
ouverte sort encore son blanc fantome.
 The Fisherman of the Sttquet I II3

B UT H E ' S MELTI NG in my mouth. Only one verse. For

what girl and what garden ? What dream makes him
drowsy, rolls him up within himself, delicately torments
him, twists his stomach lingeringly, gently?
- Do you re ject me ?
Such tenderness he needs co call forth in order co
recover chat which his dreams lavishly offer him! Such
bouquets of cue flowers tossed away in order co forget
his thickets !
I caress the small, crest-fallen mass of skin snuggled in
my hand, and I look into your eyes: far below I see the
sensitive animal that makes your cock tender.
You cry to rise up co me. A few waves succeed. This
foam at your eyes proves it. Bue the most serious pare
of you lies in your depths. And there you founder.
If I liste n closely, I hear your voice calling me, but it's
so well mingled with the sound of the sirens that I
wouldn't know how co untangle it in order to bring it
pure to my ear.
And yet I won't abandon you.
- Is he withdrawing?
He 's withdrawing within me.
All his apologetic kisses add more to the night seeding
in and around me.
Die at my hands. Die under my eyes.
I must make the situation as dark as possible (and so
tense that it's ready to split) so chat the drama is in­
evitable, so chat we can blame it on fate.
Black blood is already flowing from his mouth and
from the opening his white ghost is still emerging.
1 14 I Le Pecheur du Suquet
LE VOLEUR

O u LA N U I T se devet mais travaille a ses fleurs

Les poings clairs du boucher ont retenu ma rose.
0 nuit de cet enfant decouvert sous mes pleurs
Organise un poeme oil sa verge est enclose.

LA NUIT

Mes tresors devides par ses maigres phalanges

Jusqu'aux talons coulaient clans ton divin sommeil
Et son souffie voilait la plainte des mesanges
Voleur saignant du nez sur mes ongles vermeils !

LE VOLEUR

Le vent passe a pas lents sans m'atteindre. On me rue.

O n me tue mal. Jai peur. 0 venez sans danger
Par les pres matinaux verge belle et tetue
Apportez-moi la mer et I'aube des bergers.

L'ARBRE

De ma prison voleur s'echappent si tu passes

Fremissant a mon pied des bataillons boucles.
Ne resiste mon creur, mes branches se delacent.
Je te sais expirant, par leurs bottes foule.

LE VOLEUR

11 s' eveille parfois pour visiter mes poches

11 me vole et de ja du poison menace
Mon aigle le surveille et sur de hautes roches
L'emporte et le derobe au creux de mon passe.
 The Fishemzan of the Suquet I 115

THE THIEF

WHERE N IGHT disrobes but on its flowers keeps working

The fists of the butcher clear as day held my rose.
0 night of this child disclosed under my weepings
Arrange a poem in which his rod is enclosed.

THE NIGHT

Completely unwound by his skinny fingerbones

My treasures were flowing within your divine sleep
And his breath was smothering the titmouse's moans
Thief whose nose on my ruby-red fingernails bleeds !

THE THIEF

A breeze drifts by missing me. Someone's killing me.

Really killing me. I'm scared. Come without danger
Handsome and stubborn cock through the morning prairies
Bting me the sea and the sunrise of the shepherds.

THE TREE

Thief, if you pass by, escaping from my prison,

Shackled are battalions shivering at my foot.
My heart resists not, my boughs are coming undone.
I know that you are expiring, crushed by their boots.

THE THIEF

At times he wakes, to my pockets he finds his way

He robs me and is now threatened by the poison
But my eagle watching him takes him far away
On high rocks and in the pit of my past hides him.
rr6 I Le Pecheur du Suquet
L'ARBRE

Des eclairs pleins les mains ton beau rayon me brise.

On veut que foudroye je le sois par vos jeux
Voleur ta main trop vive a son tour sera prise
Un arbre s'est pare d'un destin courageux.

LE VOLEUR

A chacun de mes doigrs une feuille qui bouge !

Tout ce desordre vert un feuillage emouvanc.
Le front du ravisseur de pale devient rouge
Dans ses boucles frissonne une etoile au Levant !

LA NUIT

Mais de qui parlez-vous ? Les pecheurs se retirent

Comme la mer au fond de l'abime, leurs yeux.
La maree est exacte et cette ecume au rire
Remontee est pour vous un signe precieux.

L'ARTILLEUR

Les pieds entortilles de chaussettes de laine

Dans mes houzeaux de cuir je traverse les bois.
Ni la mer ou ta merde et non plus ton haleine
Voleur pour empecher que tout tremble sous moi.

LE VOLEUR

Vous etes hypocrite immortelle ecuyere

En robe d' organdi sur un cheval blesse !
En petales perdus vos beaux doigrs s'effeuillerent
Adieu mon grand jardin par le ciel terrasse !
 The Fisherman of the Sttqttet I rr7

THE TREE

Your fair ray breaks me with handfuls of lightning bolts.

Someone wants me to be thunderstruck by your games
Thief your nimble-fingered hand will be caught I know
A tree has adorned itself with a gallant fate.

THE THIEF

A leaf at each one of my fingers is stirring!

Such lively foliage all this green disorder.
The kidnapper's pale forehead is now reddening
Among his curls a star in the Levant shivers.

THE NIGHT

Whom are you talking of? The fishermen retire

Like the sea to the floor of the abyss, their eyes.
The tide's exact and this foam thrown up to laughter
Is that which you consider a most precious sign.

THE G UNNER

With my feet wrapped up warmly in woolen stockings

And in long leather leggings I cross the forest.
Nothing stops everything from trembling beneath me
Thief neither the ocean nor your shit nor your breath.

THE THIEF

Horsewoman hypocritical yet immortal

Dressed in organdy on a wounded horse by night!
Yqur beautiful fingers shed their long-lost petals
Farewell my vast garden overwhelmed by the sky !
rr8 I Le Pecheur du Suquet
A INSI JE RESTE SEUL, oublie de lui qui dort dans mes
bras. La mer est calme. Je n'ose bouger. Sa presence
serait plus terrible que son voyage hors de moi. Peut­
etre vomirait-il sur ma poitrine.

Et qu'y pourrais- je faire ? Trier ses vomissures ? Y cher­

cher parmi le vin, la viande, la bile, ces violettes et ces
roses qu'y delayen t et delient les filers de sang ?

D ES LAMES DE FEU' des fleurets brises !

La mer me travaille ou la lune veille.
Le sang dans la mer fuit de mon oreille.
Pecheur melancolique 6 VOS yeux baisses
Vos yeux plombes dans leur ciel de voyage
Creven t encor sans pitie mes abces
Car j e m' ecoule et deviens marecage
Ou va la nuit bleuir les feux follets
Langue de feu qui veille mon passage.
 The Fisherman of the Suquet I r r9
THU S I REMAIN ALONE, forgotten by him who is
sleeping in my arms. The sea is calm. I dare not move.
His presence would be more terrible than his j ourney
outside of me. He might even throw up on my chest.

And what would I be able to do ? Sort out that which

he has thrown up? Search among the wine, meat, bile,
those violets and roses that thin and untie the threads
of blood ?

BLADES OF FIRE, chisels to pieces broken !

Where the moon keeps watch the sea torments me.
From my ear the blood in the ocean flees.
Your lowered eyes 0 gloomy fisherman
Your sealed up eyes in their sky of voyage
Still burst my abscesses without a sigh
I gush out and become swamp wanting edge
When the will-o'-the-wisps turn blue at night
Tongue of fire watching over my passage.
] E AN G EN E T was born in Paris in r 9 r o. At the age of ten he
was sent to a reformatory for stealing. For many years during
his adult life he wandered throughout Europe making his way
by begging, smuggling, thievery. Much of his early manhood
was spent in prisons and reformatories. Between r 940 and
1 948 he wrote several autobiographical books, including Our
Lady of the Flowers, The Thief'sjournal, and Miracle of the Rose.
I n 1 948 his sentence of life imprisonment was commuted
largely through the efforts of French writers ( such as Sartre
and Gide) . He has also written five plays, among them The
Maids, The Balcony, and The Screens. An in-depth interview
with Genet is included in Gay Sunshine lntervieu;s, volwne I ,
edited by Winston Leyland (Gay Sunshine Press, San Fran­
cisco, r 97 8 ) .

This edition i s published i n paper wrappers ;

there are 1 00 numbered hardcover copies,
and ten specially bound hardcover copies,
lettered A co J