samedi 2 mai 2009

tu me manques entre

pour Alain
(glossary below)

the moon is cut in half in
that fat blue-gray of sky before
all the light goes out of it
that line in-between dusk and
darkness: the sky does not open
up at all like they promised
no rent in heaven but the sound
of a torrent on tin that fills me
with deepening sadness

and your music in my head doesn't
help me anymore, belovèd one,
now that you are gone, now that i
feel your absence everywhere i go
that you won't be opening le cirque royale
tonight or l'olympia tomorrow, not
moving from hospital gown to leather
outfit to close out the night with
"malaxe, malaxe, le coeur de l'automat...
malaxe, le thorax",
flashing your
modest smile, trenchcoat at your side

i don't know what to do with it
not sure what it means at all now
that you're gone and i'm alone, stuck
on this planet with my fucking pain
and no one to share it with, not like
i shared it with you, my brother, when
curled in my bed, i shed those grosses
to your chansons and sullied
my sheets with the strange desire for
even more of them, never enough
to get at the rot of this existence

who will i share it with, who will
understand, and who will care
now that you are buried in
le père with your amis and your
admirateurs and your voix profonde
and if i try to be strong, will you
be there in my rêverie, will you
grasp at the words that flow from
my mouth when it is moi, le poète?
will you make them sing, will
i channel you at last maintenant
que tu sois cendres?

i can't stand the sound of this
rain on my roof, i detest the
noise from the tv set and
all the crap that falls down
around me when i am stretched
between light and darkness
and i ask, how could you have
left when i'm still this messed-up
femme with half a heart and a
pain condition that never stops?

tu me manques entre lumière
et les ténèbres de mon lit, entre
les chansons qui ne s'arretent pas
même sans toi, même sans toi

Glossary of French terms
tu me manques entre - i miss you between
le cirque royale - concert hall in Brussels, Belgium where Alain Bashung opened his concert tours
l'olympia - very famous concert hall in Paris where Bashung closed his concert tours
"malaxe, malaxe, le coeur de l'automat.../ malaxe, le thorax" - from the song "Malaxe" by Bashung: "knead, knead, the heart of the automatic, knead, the thorax"
grosses larmes - fat tears
chansons - songs
le père - -Père-Lachaise cemetery in Paris where Bashung is laid to rest among other celebrated artists and is especially near the graves to Edith Piaf and Jim Morrison
amis - friends
admirateurs - admirers
ta voix profonde - your deep voice
moi, le poète - I, the poet
maintenant/ que tu sois cendres - now that you are ashes
femme - woman
tu me manques entre lumière/ et les ténèbres de mon lit, entre/ les chansons qui ne s'arretent pas/ même sans toi, même sans toi - i am missing you between light/ and the darkness of my bed/ the songs that don't stop/ even without you, even without you

4 commentaires:

Jan Hersh a dit…

So sad
si triste
les larmes
a feast for your tissue
I wish you

Moineau En France a dit…

jan, merci, mon amie... je ne comprends pas cette longue tristesse que je me sens, je n'ai jamais pleuré pour personne comme ça ni aussi longuement. ron a dit c'est probablement car bashung a été le compagnon de plusieurs de mes dépressions, et c'était lui dans mes oreilles quand je ne pouvait pas parler pendant des longs mois. et pire il semble au moment, c'est une autre nuit maintenant, ron dans son lit épuissé de sa journée, et moi seule dans la nuit encore avec ce deuil. mais c'est un état solitaire qu'il faut suivre jusqu'à la fin, n'est-ce pas? donc, merci quand même pour ton commentaire et ton soin. a feast for tissues indeed! bisous bisous pour bijou bijou xoxoxooxoxox ~lt

Stirling Davenport a dit…

When the tears have fallen on your sheets and the rain has finished its abatant! on the tin roof, spring will pulse its unexpected fragrance ... a stray lilac or a spray of crabapple will bring you a little sign of light to balance the darkness. Then even the darkness will shine. If he lives in our heart then the companion never leaves you.

Moineau En France a dit…

ty, stirling, that is very kind, and that is what is written, in essence, on his grave stone. xoxoxoxoxoox