absinthe- and Rimbaud-addict
wrote a famous poem praising
Rimbaud's nether regions.
It appeared in his hand-written
and personally-distributed collection
with a title in Spanish,
 |
| portrait by Félix Vallotton |
and published after his death.
It was a parody on a collection of poems
by Albert Mérat, entitled l'Idole,
each of which praised items of female anatomy.
It is 'not one of his best',
certainly not better than
the famous Arsehole Sonnet
that he wrote together
with his much younger 'Idol' Arthur.
It is also untranslatable,
especially if you want it to rhyme.
But today I had a go at the first verse,
keeping the original ABBA rime-scheme,
and here is the result:
Even
when it’s not erect
Your cock delights me, dangling there,
pale gold beneath your pubic hair
commanding my utmost respect…
Just after completing this masterpiece
of 'free translation' (in a mere 70 minutes)
I saw the Hidden Statue of Caylus
(around the corner, 150 metres from where I live)
in particularly good light,
and took this photo of an ephebe with an over-large
(or detumescent) dick by a probably-queer
pupil of Zadkine, who lived here for a while),
which I think is apposite:
4 comments:
Caylus is one of the two French villages that the Belarussian sculptor Josip Zadkine worked in. His second-best piece, a massive and splendid oaken Christ Rising is inside the 12th-13th century church.
But the statue pictured above must have been carved by a different hand. It is hidden in a private garden behind what used to be a Marxist café owned and run by a wealthy Belgian inhabitant of Caylus.
Here is the original:
Même quand tu ne bandes pas,
Ta queue encor fait mes délices
Qui pend, blanc d’or entre tes cuisses,
Sur tes roustons, sombres appas. [ou appâts!]
— Couilles de mon amant, sœurs fières
À la riche peau de chagrin,
D’un brun et d’un rose et purpurin,
Couilles farceuses et guerrières,
Et dont la gauche balle un peu
Tout petit peu plus bas que l’autre
D’un air roublard et bon apôtre,
À quelles donc fins, nom de Dieu ? —
Elle est dodue, ta quéquette
Et veloutée, du pubis
Au prépuce fermant le pis,
Aux trois quarts d’une rose crête.
Elle se renfle un brin au bout
Et dessine sous la peau douce
Le gland gros comme un demi-pouce
Montrant ses lèvres jusqu’au bout.
Après que je l’aurai baisée
En tout amour reconnaissant,
Laisse ma main, la caressant,
La saisir d’une prise osée,
Pour soudain la décalotter ;
En sorte que, violet tendre,
Le Gland joyeux, sans plus attendre,
Splendidement vienne éclater ;
Et puis elle, en bonne bougresse,
Accélère le mouvement
Et Jean-nu-tête en un moment
De se remettre à la redresse.
Tu bandes ! C’est ce que voulaient
Ma bouche et mon cul : choisis, maître,
Une simple douce, peut-être ?
C’est ce que mes dix doigts voulaient.
Cependant le vit, mon idole,
Tend pour le rite et pour le cul-
Te, à mes mains, ma bouche et mon cul
Sa forme adorable d’idole.
Wow. From your first comment, a swirl of influences and sources confusing (me) at first read. I keep my underwear in the drawer and the same thing for breakfast everyday - hangin' on by my britches, what's the entire catalog have that will throw my pretensions under the bus, I wonder?
That, juxtaposed with the sections, "your cock delights me', but then, "it demands my utmost respect"?
Two different tones, or degree of status, informal to formal. if not to align some unheard meter, then revealing a human shortcoming? I will wager he preferred looking in the mirror, above all else.
So, your translation is likely dead on, huh?
Not quite "dead-on"... nor "hard-on" ... it is a 'free' translation.
The literal translation of this first verse is:
Even when your cock's not hard (isn't erect)
It still gives me delight
Hasnging/dangling, pale gold between your thighs,
over your charming balls.
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