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Ode to an Infant Martyr (j'essaie d'être beckettement bilingue)


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#1 P?turajantiantic

P?turajantiantic

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Posté 23 mars 2007 - 07:00

Daughter, contemplate
The last morning of thy life.
Remember the pearls thou hast eaten
Throughout thy shorn days:
The sand of the Coliseum
Shall be thy shroud
And thy gown of felicity.
Then singest thou heartbeats
Of thumping stars.

She whose goldem vellum
Presently adorns the auroch’s tumid lips
Came unto this our common life
Not many springs ago.
Her aquamarine pupils
Like unsullied earthenware
At Caesar’s raucous orgies
They graced not many grocers or winemakers
Or lectors or centurions, but were locked
Onto the populous laughter of her mother’s hair,
The pudginess of her toes
And the light down of chrysanthemum.

Ave, mysterious kingdom of death.

Ave, scintillating Priscilla, daughter of God.

Caracalla, thou art upturned-
My daughter has already been devoured.
I thus doubly pray for thee,
Thou impish ghoul.

Before the eagle of the obelisk,
Garish temple of Jupiter Capitoline,
By the wading pool
Before the launching of the clouds of fire
Before the iron wasps
Sting the progeny of Ishmael
Children of Arabia Felix
I shall inhale thy feathery glee,
O mellifluous Priscilla,
Beyond the gates which forever splinter
The porcelain of emperors’ teeth.