Traduction - Jean Joubert
Ce blog est un espace de lecture et d'écriture, de création et d'échange, autour de la littérature. Il est l'oeuvre de Premières du Lycée de l'Iroise à Brest (France) et d'élèves apprenant le français au Liceo Cecioni à Livourne (Italie) dans le cadre d'un projet eTwinning. "Ecrire ne saurait être qu'un acte de fraternité avec la poésie de ses semblables" (Georges Perros)
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Publié par Doriane
Here the childhood's house
i am pushing the grey door,
i am coming into what was the kitchen
now on dark and empty.
It looks like in the silence
the air tenderly shivers
as if a butterfly or a dwarfish bat
was flying from the ceiling.
Smell of garlic and wilt rose.
Here there were a table and three chairs
and there the kitchen sink, the cupboard and the cook.
A vaguely figure and as transparent
is sitting motionless, then he turns to me,
figure of a man which is raising slowly a hand
and which lips are moving :
My father, I know it, who is trying to tell me
what he has never told me,
in vain tries hardly to speak
but I can't even hear a rustle.
Finally, as smoke that wind torments,
the figure shakes a little and fades.
Later, I saw him again at twilight, on the hill.
He was walking.
He was carying a child on his shoulders.