lundi 26 juillet 2010

Faerie Neverfear

F Neverfear

In reciting poems a magician, as Bruno, put distance

between the woman and the man, the author and the speaker

he transmitted intimately to the air, as the ear of Fairie Neverfear

he transmitted as we read an anonymous letter, surprised and sceptical

the open letter and the tie still in his hand, the pigeon

of wisdom alive in daylight of his spell when Bruno practised magic

only deep skinned elephant and merle

had this awakening faculty in the memorie and the whisper

he made metal sound as a messenger cloud

he took from India the river of salvation and showered me

with strange tatoos of truth about my faire

I asked for a copy of this poem knowing not

if it was the music that I made or the thought

if the woman has spoken when I saw her go

if I was writing my own novel and I knew her not

if it was me or not the person there involved

and Bruno was secretly in love with Faire Neverfear

being hers the person of his magic in the reading of poems

and they found both their names in Ancient poems

carried by the mule and the mare as equally proper and reminding

written by copists of things heard in the ballads of study

kiss her now, my man she’s waiting

she thinks you are a fool and she feels secure

this is the moment to finish a poem on Faire Neverfear

to give her a mask of bat or of an eagle in a white brushed high

to discuss of vinegar forgetting not China rice

and ignoring vertues of new balsams

prefering the christly turned wine by cold supper

of friday and alldays are friday

insane dried romarin burnt to purify said the speaker

and the strange story was nonsense and truth

of a garden of tears and of silence Faire Neverfear

Green Maria and Daphne had not tought

to bees but to sugar coffee and to make tea for her

and the dinner was far in the dark of Homer’s dream

because Bruno discovered the island of pleasure

in taking the messure of feet on the wet sand

of this lines similar to girls in the island line

and he was convinced of the wrongness of fugitive thoughts

and the moment came to kiss this sandal feet of you

Faire Neverfear I’m alone do you hear

I’m not Bruno Bruno recited

magician of this tired spell exposed to sun rays and day shadows

keep inside me

now you are gone to sleep and now you are close to my skin

speak the garden to the cloud in the month of glass warming

for innocent thoughts are like an intoxicated game

when useless art send them to sleep as talismanic jewels

send attention to paths of the very various and the past

keep inside me

now you are an image of time and you are tired and pretty

now we are gone too far in the production of gold

silk dragons wait for us on a flower’s aftermath

Faire Neverfear, Faire Neverfear

4 commentaires:

Chiqui a dit…

Vaya, vaya… "if I was writing my own novel and I knew her not".Qué me recuerda eso?
Anoche compré “El proletariado en apuros I”. Ya te comentaré cuando lo lea.
Bonito e ingenioso tu poema, en inglés! I would love to be a fairie that never fear

Chiqui a dit…

got the book!

Elvira a dit…

Sé que Chiqui anda enfrascada en tu libro. Pero, ¿por dónde andas tú, MM?
La verdad es que estamos todos un poco perdidos. Humm

me a dit…

Manuel, por donde andas? Entra y disnos que estas aqui!