
The cursed side
Of poetry
Freshly imposes
Itself
Mnemosyne parades naked
Her reign is absolute
With both her feet in the mud
She slowly exits
From the different fields
Behind her trail
Like a plough
The broken up
Old earth
Making the tragic mask
On the face of every poet
Texte : traduction de Peter O’Neill – texte original : Yan Kouton (http://k-yk.blogspot.com/2020/05/vers.html)
Photo : Yan Kouton
oui tragique… parce que touchant à l’incommunicable, l’indicible solitude du dire aussi