Catching your Breath | Pour retrouver ton souffle

Catching your Breath

 

Twenty years on today time wants
to light a candle for the man-child
touching my cheek.

A moth flies in out of the milk-blue dark.
Large and brown and furry, it flutters
at my throat—a hand
flicks it away and it spins
wildly about the flame.

At rest on the page the moth shows off
the golden seam along its wings.

It is patterned like a prayer.

Here is the air where you do not walk
the fire you must not touch
and as desirable as inaccessible
here are your soul-wings.

I catch your breath and breathe it back to the milk-blue dark.

 

Pour retrouver ton souffle

 

Vingt années que le temps veut
allumer une bougie pour l’homme-enfant
qui m’effleure la joue.

Un papillon de nuit surgit de la nuit bleu de lait.
Énorme, et brun, et velu, il volète
Vers mon cou—une main
l’en chasse, et il vrille
autour de la flamme.

Au repos sur la page le papillon exhibe
le fil d’or qui ourle ses ailes.

Le fil écrit une prière.

Voici l’air où tu n’iras pas
le feu que tu ne toucheras pas
et aussi convoitées qu’inaccessibles
voici tes ailes d’âme.

Je retrouve ton souffle et le rends à la nuit bleu de lait.

Pulse | Pulsations

Pulse

 

1

Somewhere in this night lives
a light
that turns in the open
throat of time.

2

When the sky waits for rain
birds squat in silence
and longing is but
one great sweeping movement that makes the earth quake.

3

The clock stands still in the heat, and I
fear the mimicry of clichés—
like a comma usurping all
punctuation.

4

No, I don’t believe
in the silence
drying up
on your lips.

5

I dream the wish that inhabits
you is a space
opening up a gap
into the night.

6

What I write gleams
like the moon
pulsing in a sea
of clouds.

7

Your lips are grey—a hyphen
between dis and ease
and the ultimate sinking
into silence.

8

Rain pours.
In my throat words come up for air
like a promise
to skin death alive.

 

Pulsations

 

1

Quelque part dans la nuit vit
une lueur
qui s’engage dans la gorge
ouverte du temps.

2

Quand le ciel est en mal de pluie
les oiseaux attendent en silence
et le désir n’est
plus qu’un large mouvement qui fait trembler la terre.

3

Dans cette chaleur l’horloge s’arrête, et moi
je crains le mimétisme des clichés—
comme une virgule usurpant tout
de la punctuation.

4

Non, je ne crois pas
au silence
séchant
sur tes lèvres.

5

Je rêve le désir qui t’habite
et c’est un espace
qui crée une faille
dans la nuit.

6

Ce que j’écris brille
comme la lune
qui bat dans une mer
de nuages.

7

Tes lèvres sont grises—un trait d’union
entre mal et être
et l’ultime noyade
dans le silence.

8

Pluie torrentielle.
Dans ma gorge les mots font surface
comme une promesse
d’écorcher la mort toute vive.

Reading in Braille | Lecture en Braille

Reading in Braille

 

Against the heavy sky day after day you live
and look for words under your own eyelids.

In the darkness comes a turning
where everything leads to this
inbetween, this inward sun.

And so you write the way you hang
the washing out, pegs in your mouth
knowing full well it’s not Monday.

The sun dictates our daily tasks
and the prayers that rise towards the newly dead
like butterflies surrendering to every breath.

 

Lecture en Braille

 

Sur un fond de ciel lourd jour après jour tu vis
à la recherché de mots sous tes paupies.

Dans l’obscurité vient un tournant
où tout conduit à cet
entredeux, ce soleil intérieur.

Aussi tu écris comme tu étends
le linge, les épingles dans la bouche
sachant très bien que ce n’est pas lundi.

Le soleil dicte nos tâches quotidiennes
et les prières qui s’élèvent vers les morts récents
comme des papillons qui s’abandonnent au moindre souffle.

Bio

A creative writer and Associate Professor in Writing at Swinburne University of Technology in Melbourne, Belgian-born Dominique Hecq has a background in literary studies, psychoanalysis, and translation. Towards a Poetics of Creative Writing (Bristol: Multilingual Matters, 2015) is her latest book. It explores creative writing in the academy as an avenue for investigating creativity while examining the relevance of psychoanalysis for the arts. She is the author of thirteen full-length creative works, recently including Stretchmarks of Sun (2014), a companion piece to Out of Bounds (2009), both published by the Melbourne-based publisher re.press. Well-known for her translations of poetry (as well as philosophy, and psychoanalysis), she is the recipient of the inaugural AALITRA Prize for Literary Translation (Spanish/English) and, amongst other literary prizes, the Martha Richardson Medal for Poetry and the New England Review Prize for Poetry.

Taking up Linda Maria Baros’ challenge to self-translate and having had the privilege of being invited to the thirty-first International Poetry Festivat at Trois Rivières in Québec in 2015, Dominique Hecq has undertaken to translate her own work: Chiendent (Couchgrass, Hobart: Platypus Publishing, 2007) is forthcoming and Hors-Limites (Out of Bounds, 2009) is in preparation. She is also chief editor of Bukker Tillibul, a co-editor of Double Dialogues, and the founding editor of Psychoanalysis Lacan.

Notes

The first two French translations by the author, Dominique Hecq, in La Traductière: Revue internationale de poésie et art visuel, Issue 33, 2015 and the third English poem also in La Traductière, Issue 30, 2012, are republished here with her permission together with all other unpublished works.