photo: Westland, Christchurch, un lieu plein de silence qui parle.
La voix du silence
tellement profonde, lancinante
est celle qui parle le plus,
qui parle le mieux
Les mots ensuite tentent
de traduire ce qu’elle signifie.
Archives par mot-clé : reserve
#4191 poetry
photo: I’ve never seen a cabbage tree I didn’t like and the more the better, Christchurch, New Brighton reserve
you made so much noise
around my ancient faults
maybe you would have done better
to get through your own night
#4073 poetry
photo : The Grove, scenic reserve, Pohara, young rimu which has undoubtedly inspired a number of legends.
l
The tree was drifting/
in the middle of the forest/
It was about/
letting the wind, and time take its course/
So I followed/
its movements/
oh so slow,
in a kind of renunciation/
of heat, and of time/
and of his nonchalant destiny
in his hand
it was written in his hand
that she would still be here tomorrow
maybe even after tomorrow
that she would go to the end of the road
(far from being innocuous)
dans sa main
c’était écrit dans sa main
qu’elle serait toujours là demain
peut-être même après-demain
qu’elle arriverait au bout du chemin
loin d’être anodin