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Fly, fly higher farther… French poem professionally translated to English.


Envol, plus haut plus loin... ©copyright2015owpp

Envol, plus haut plus loin…
©copyright2015owpp

This poem was written after I had read Boileau’s “Oeuvres I Satires, le lutrin”. He was born in 1636 & today, belongs to the French classics. The only word that comes to my mind concerning his style is, magnificent. Discovering it at this time in my life gives me the advantage of grasping & appreciating the genius & depth of this master of literature.
This poem is mostly philosophising about the adventure & thrill of journeys in the mode of transportation we use today (which is mostly airplanes) & its origins.
I wrote this poem in French & as its level is higher than usual I preferred to get the help of a professional translator. I found it extremely difficult to keep its original flavour & twist which can sometimes get lost in search of a word or sentence in another language.
The work was done superbly. For those who are bilingual, you will be able to judge for yourself. The contact information is choshana.b@gmail.com & mobile 00 44 797 056 83 37.
I will first write it in the English version as most of my followers are English speaking. Thank you for the patience of my French speaking followers 🙂

Journeys
=====

Fly, fly higher farther,
On the wings of eclosion,
Belonging in the days of yore,
To the works of the creator,
Always seeking renewal.

Through the freshness of encounters,
Exchanges with obscured or enlightened minds,
Undebased by proximity.
To race the sunny boulevards,
Parenthesis in a frozen winter,
Stroke the bark of a palm tree,
Hear reverberate the spontaneous exclamation
Of a free nation.

Inestimable exchange of ideas, opinions or perspective,
On the magical or tragical universe,
Surrounding an awakened or slumbered eye,
By night glittering with silver sequins,
Softened by benevolent reflection of the guardian,
Of a world recuperating from the commotion & frantic palpitations,
That accompany the rising of a blinding sun.

And if sometimes, changes the bed of the river,
Winding in a turbulent course, compelling
Humble servants of this earth to confront mortality,
Unavoidable path for all terrestrial.
This is at least solaced with the comfort of being home,
Well supported among one’s own.

Fly, fly low, close to the swarm,
Life crackling on the hearth,
Warming your brood from the streets
Blanketed in snow.
Cheating history, availing of these rare

Singular moments of… bliss.

Voyages
=====

Envol, envol, plus haut plus loin,
Sur les ailes de l’éclosion,
Jadis appartenant aux oeuvres du créateur,
Cherchant toujours le renouveau.

A travers la fraicheur des rencontres,
L’échange des esprits obscurcis ou éclairés,
Dont la distance n’avilit point.
Pour courir les boulevards ensoleillés,
Parenthèse d’un hiver glacé,
Caresser l’écorse d’un palmier,
Entendre résonner l’exclamation
D’un peuple en liberté.

Echanges inestimables d’opinions, d’idées ou de perspectives,
Sur l’univers magique ou tragique, qui
Entoure un oeil éveillé ou ensommeillé,
Par une nuit rutilante de paillettes argentées,
Adoucit par le reflet bienveillant, du gardien
D’un monde récupérant du tohu-bohu et palpitations frénétiques,
Qui accompagnent le lever d’un soleil aveuglant.

Et mème si parfois change le lit du fleuve,
Empruntant un parcours chahuté, obligeant
Les humbles serviteurs de cette terre à confronter
La mortalité, Chemin inevitable pour tout terrestre,
C’est au moins avec le réconfort d’être chez soi
Bien épauler parmis les siens.

Envol, envol tout bas, tout près de l’essaim,
Ta vie crépitant sur l’âtre, réchauffant
Ta nichée des rues enneigées.
Trichant l’histoire, profitant de

ces moments d’aubaine calculés.

Through the seasons of life


crunching under the burden... ©copyright2013owpp

crunching under the burden…
©copyright2013owpp

Leaving early in the morn
Your heart heavy yet light
With hope…

You travel the void of
Subways and commuters,
Walk through dead leaves
Crunching under the burden
Imposed…

Greeted by a lambent
Welcome, a twinkle thick
With enthusiasm you whisper
a small prayer for the tiny
Warm hand

Fitting trustingly yours,
Unaware of the odyssey in
Its genesis unconcerned
About the accessories…
A prerequisite

For endurance as he walks
through the seasons of life
The arteries…

Of his universe

Sweet and sour, bonus of the hour. 9th of April 2013


foam & waves ©copyright2013owpp

foam & waves
©copyright2013owpp

Sweet and sour, bonus of the hour
————————————

Where have you gone
Where are the birdsongs
The spume and waves
Buckets and spades

Dried mouth
Crackled earth and drought
Speak to me
I want to see

Create out of vagary (1)
Tears, diamonds to be
Fatigue…strength unlaced
Poems, cascading grace

Suffering… laughter down the alley
All I want as an identity
Is to breathe through that song
Once you have gone

Crash with the waves
Sleep with buckets and spades
Fly where rivers speak
Where wind plays music

Where dawn breaks
On mountain peaks
And sun sets
Out of jealousy

Betrayed by night
Teased out of sight
What nonsense do I speak
When words glide into me!

Needs a lot of polishing
To make this poem neat
Where have you gone
Just spoke to me

Come! Haunt my dreams
I need you to be
Not understand
Life’s intricacies

Sweet and sour
Bonus of the hour

It is as perfect as can be!

(1) Vagary.
Caprice.
Extravagant notion or action.

My untamed thoughts 2008 ( Translation of poem below ” Mes pensées insoumises ” )


deep in the night... ©copyright2013owpp

deep in the night…
©copyright2013owpp

My untamed thoughts
———————

Deep in the night
On your page I write
My most burrowed thoughts
In a sometimes sluggish mind

A ponderous silence
Or a restful one
Conveying
Through my quill pen
Scratching the haze
Of my life in dunes
Of valleys and vertices
Of stormy sands

It is deep in the night
That on your page I smile
Of my wandering mind
By my untamed thoughts.

Mes pensées insoumises 2008 ( French poetry translated above as “my untamed thoughts” )


deep in the night... ©copyright2013owpp

deep in the night…
©copyright2013owpp

Mes pensées insoumises
————————

Au fin fond de la nuit
C’est sur ta page que j’écris
Mes pensées les plus enfouies
Dans un esprit parfois endormi

Un silence pesant,
Ou, reposant
Se traduisant
A travers ma plûme
Qui gratte la brûme
De ma vie en dûnes
De vallées et de sommets
De sables mouvementés

C’est au fin fond de la nuit
Que sur ta page je souris
De mon esprit étourdi
Par mes pensées insoumises.