by Jacques Juillard
Translation Louise Thunin
In the imaginary passageway between a dying year and another we take for new, I would like, at last, to emerge from the verbal stagnation in which my life has become stuck.
I’ve had enough of being shut in,
My eyes and ears too full of
spinning words getting tangled up.
Too much gibberish,
reasoning, hollowness and repetition.
Too many political or commercial slogans,
lies and self-righteous maxims.
Too many ready-made speeches
suffocating for lack of air and laughter.
Too many false platitudes
that devour dreams.
Too many words that judge, label, wound and
hammer nails through the heart.
I would love to brave the currents back upstream toward the source,
that slender stream of clear water that still sings of life.
Once the buzzing of stuffy words
has turned to nothing more than the murmur of waves receding,
Then, in the shelters of silence,
Shall arise in me songs of the depths.
Then shall be born the living words that see through death,
The adventuresome words where space opens up.
Then shall I hear the voices of hope,
And Holy Breath will carry me off.
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