L’œil au ralenti


sans réserve ma voix couvre sa proie
il suffit de ne rien déranger
on succombe à la paresse
au bruit à la fatigue
on se dissout dans l’air impur
curieux mensonge parmi d’autres
la voix ruine toujours les mots

what an old wive’s tale
the voice always ruins words
they fall prey to our lazy tired claptrap
our impure breath taints them
yet when everything falls into place
my voice deliciously savours its words

Translated by Norman Cornett



This poem “L’œil au ralenti” originally appeared in Gendering the Archive. Spec. issue of Canadian Literature 217 (Summer 2013): 124.

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