The ship came like a flying horse, at an inexact time
Our brother-sailor, from the Pantheon of Poets, was on board
Jean Pierre Basilic Dantor Frankétienne D’argent
Who wrote, in haste, the last act
Happened to be miraculously on the port
He got on and left without speaking, without money
Without his masterpieces, without a little house
That’s life, we leave at any season.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
Franckétienne is not gone
He is somewhere, in Ravine-Sèche, Haiti, in the streets
His inspiration is in the show of ‘the Point’
We have no choice but to take care
Of his memory, his invention and his imagination
Franckétienne was a Haitian genius, poet, playwright, and spiralist
Minister of culture, wordsmith, singer, painter and artist
His name was a long, long sentence
And his words made people laugh until ecstasy.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
While alive, he had not obtained his little house
He was a legendary genius who defied the imagination
The dictators, the ordinary, the unusual and the abstract
By becoming a mapou, a baobab. Wendell would say
What a potomitan! What a cathedral! What a citadel!
To paraphrase the son of the director of McDonald's
"If you happen to fall, learn to ride quickly
Your fall, let your fall become a horse, your horse
To continue the journey", the excursion.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
"Every minute counts after fifty"
Once said Frankétienne, since you can leave
At any time, at any moment
'Galaxy plomb gaillé', not too far from the nadir
An invisible trail on the head like Valentino or Tino Rossi
Frankétienne is no more, the artist is gone
He remains more than ever a new Being
The giant, the writer, the actor, the creator of words
He is dressed in suspenders like a big white *****
Not like a monster from Dr. Frankenstein. Like a mobster
A thief, the ship came like a flying horse; it is death
That threatens us as if we are wrong
We weep, cry now like a mother in mourning
For this advanced octogenarian, for this prince of light.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
P.S. A Tribute to Franckétienne and family, to Wendell Théodore
And company, to Radio Métropole and to all good Haitians.
My sincere condolences to all! Sit ei terra levis!
This is a translation of
‘Le Navire Est Venu À Cheval, Ou Hommage Au Fameux Poète Frankétienne’
Copyright © February 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 2:06 PM UTC
The ship came like a flying horse, at an inexact time
Our brother-sailor, from the Pantheon of Poets, was on board
Jean Pierre Basilic Dantor Frankétienne D’argent
Who wrote, in haste, the last act
Happened to be miraculously on the port
He got on and left without speaking, without money
Without his masterpieces, without a little house
That’s life, we leave at any season.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
Franckétienne is not gone
He is somewhere, in Ravine-Sèche, Haiti, in the streets
His inspiration is in the show of ‘the Point’
We have no choice but to take care
Of his memory, his invention and his imagination
Franckétienne was a Haitian genius, poet, playwright, and spiralist
Minister of culture, wordsmith, singer, painter and artist
His name was a long, long sentence
And his words made people laugh until ecstasy.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
While alive, he had not obtained his little house
He was a legendary genius who defied the imagination
The dictators, the ordinary, the unusual and the abstract
By becoming a mapou, a baobab. Wendell would say
What a potomitan! What a cathedral! What a citadel!
To paraphrase the son of the director of McDonald's
"If you happen to fall, learn to ride quickly
Your fall, let your fall become a horse, your horse
To continue the journey", the excursion.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
"Every minute counts after fifty"
Once said Frankétienne, since you can leave
At any time, at any moment
'Galaxy plomb gaillé', not too far from the nadir
An invisible trail on the head like Valentino or Tino Rossi
Frankétienne is no more, the artist is gone
He remains more than ever a new Being
The giant, the writer, the actor, the creator of words
He is dressed in suspenders like a big white *****
Not like a monster from Dr. Frankenstein. Like a mobster
A thief, the ship came like a flying horse; it is death
That threatens us as if we are wrong
We weep, cry now like a mother in mourning
For this advanced octogenarian, for this prince of light.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
P.S. A Tribute to Franckétienne and family, to Wendell Théodore
And company, to Radio Métropole and to all good Haitians.
My sincere condolences to all! Sit ei terra levis!
This is a translation of
‘Le Navire Est Venu À Cheval, Ou Hommage Au Fameux Poète Frankétienne’
Copyright © February 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.