To my grandma,
Dressed with your antique gold decorations
And your oneiric sets
In a swinging gait, bucolic
You come into view, tall, fabulous
In your museum, my amused
Unveiling the stylized veils
Around marbles, spread
In colors, irised hues
You’re dancing, evolving, fragile
Between Vélázquez and Vergil.
Of the Graces, of Guernica, deft
You know it all, aurora, sybil.
Of your opportune inspiration
I tasted all the delights
Between your eyes and smooth fingers
I’ve seen the masters’ evil spells
But also a pale beauty
We have together moored
On the ocean of eternity
Beside the Arts, carved out of love.
Still reading in your golden voice
Those expert accents of yours out of
Time, your moves back then
A work today, still glistening
To you then this libertine fire
Your impish fingers detain…
September 8, 2015, Lyon
Translated on October 18, 2015
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
To my grandma,
Dressed with your antique gold decorations
And your oneiric sets
In a swinging gait, bucolic
You come into view, tall, fabulous
In your museum, my amused
Unveiling the stylized veils
Around marbles, spread
In colors, irised hues
You’re dancing, evolving, fragile
Between Vélázquez and Vergil.
Of the Graces, of Guernica, deft
You know it all, aurora, sybil.
Of your opportune inspiration
I tasted all the delights
Between your eyes and smooth fingers
I’ve seen the masters’ evil spells
But also a pale beauty
We have together moored
On the ocean of eternity
Beside the Arts, carved out of love.
Still reading in your golden voice
Those expert accents of yours out of
Time, your moves back then
A work today, still glistening
To you then this libertine fire
Your impish fingers detain…
September 8, 2015, Lyon
Translated on October 18, 2015
My grandmother is a museum curator, she took me to most of the museums she found fascinating around the world, mostly in France, and I, my love for arts enhanced in her shadow, visited many museums home and abroad
