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AppolinePoems
One’s body is the beast of the soul ad libitum Skimmed, tamed, frustrated, desires-damned Learning in its sweet but furious rebellion It is made of skin-dust in the stream, alluvium Of a deep sinuous river, element of passion Imperfect orb yet proud matter of perfection Placed at the center of your senses, riotous jewelry Bedecking, centerpiece of your dominant chest. Veiled during our rites, silent under the canopy You seize against your mouth my finery, lover, my fest… The liquid gemstones give way and the string Weaves itself again, lightning bolt around you The palace is shaken by an echo, noblest equilibrium Hidden crater, fusions, explosions and a blue lava ring Slowly spread until the delta of your Nile… Our flesh collide. Then, an unbridled pulsation rises, a mile Away from the mountains of our erected temples Swimming against the black tide of our Aegean seas… In a white morning’s gleam, we have lost to our bodies Hand-to-hand, in love, in a mutual fantasy. Translated and adapted on July 9, 2015.
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Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
Body Blow
One’s body is the beast of the soul ad libitum Skimmed, tamed, frustrated, desires-damned Learning in its sweet but furious rebellion It is made of skin-dust in the stream, alluvium Of a deep sinuous river, element of passion Imperfect orb yet proud matter of perfection Placed at the center of your senses, riotous jewelry Bedecking, centerpiece of your dominant chest. Veiled during our rites, silent under the canopy You seize against your mouth my finery, lover, my fest… The liquid gemstones give way and the string Weaves itself again, lightning bolt around you The palace is shaken by an echo, noblest equilibrium Hidden crater, fusions, explosions and a blue lava ring Slowly spread until the delta of your Nile… Our flesh collide. Then, an unbridled pulsation rises, a mile Away from the mountains of our erected temples Swimming against the black tide of our Aegean seas… In a white morning’s gleam, we have lost to our bodies Hand-to-hand, in love, in a mutual fantasy. Translated and adapted on July 9, 2015.
Here's the French translation: A cor et à cris Le corps est la bête sauvage de l’âme Effleuré, dompté, frustré, qui de désirs se damne Il apprend dans sa douce mais fougueuse rebellion Qu’il est poussière de chair, dans les flots, alluvions D’un profond fleuve sinueux, élément de passion Orbe imparfait mais fière matière à perfection Placé au centre de tes sens, bijoux capricieux Ornant, pièce maîtresse, ton buste dominant. Voilés dans nos rituels, silencieux, sous les cieux Tu saisis contre ta bouche la parure, amant, tendrement… Le collier de pierres liquides se dérobe, et le fil Se tisse à nouveau, éclair fulgurant autour de toi Dans le palais, l’écho secoue l’équilibre roi Cratère caché, fusions, explosions et lave bleutée Qui lentement s’allongent jusqu’à delta de ton Nil… Nos chairs s’entrechoquent, ensuite, en une pulsation, effritée Monte de la montagne de nos temples érigés Luttant contre le courant noir de nos deux Mers Egées… Dans le blanc du matin, nous avons perdu contre nos corps Corps-à-corps acharnés, amoureux, selon nos propres accords. 3 Juillet 2015 Lyon, France.
Appoline
Written by
Appoline
24/F
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
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