Philippe SOUPAULT








Servitudes

Yesterday it was night out
still the advertising posters sing
the trees stretch out
the wax statue at the barber's smiles at me
No spitting
No smoking
rays of sunlight streaming from your hands you announced it to
me
there are fourteen

I invent unmapped streets
several new continents flourish
the newspapers will be coming out tomorrow
Wet Paint
I'll go for a stroll naked except for my walking stick








Sunday

The aircraft are weaving the telegraph wires
and the waterfall is singing the exact same song
At the coachman's hangout the aperitifs are all orange
but locomotive engineers all have white eyes
the lady has lost her smile in the woods







Route

I detected the memory of her voice as it alit and perched
My body cradled my thoughts
The telegraph wires were speeding away

The thud of a thrown stone struck noon








Life-Saving Medal

My long nose sticks out like a knife
and my eyes are bloodshot from laughing
In the middle of the night I take in the milk and the moon
and run without turning about
If the trees are afraid behind me
Who cares
How beautiful indifference is at midnight

Where are all those people going
the pride of the city
streetcorner musicians
the crowd dances at top speed
and I'm just an anonymous passerby
or someone else whose name I've forgotten

Translated by Michael Benedikt






back