Jacobai Poetry Selection ｜ We long for keeping purity, although there are more truths in evil

Philip Jacob was born in Switzerland in 1925. At the age of seventeen, he began to write poems. Under the guidance of Swiss poets and translated home Stav Hu, he embarked on the road of creation and translation. In 1946, Jacobai was located in Paris by Melmont Press, Switzerland, and met the Francis Ponge and the poets of the French poets and the "Henri Thomas) and Pierre Pierre Leyris, etc. In 1953, Jacob Thai and female painter Anne-Marie Halser married, and then settled in the small village Girion, a small village in Delong Province, southern France to devote himself to the creative activities of poetry, prose, and literary criticism. He died on February 24, 2021 at the age of 95.

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Night is a sleeping big city ...

Night is a sleeping big city,

The wind blows ... it comes from a distance, until it

The refuge in this bed. This is the midnight of June.

You sleep, people bring me to the endless shore,

The wind shakes the hazel tree. A call comes

Close and evacuated, I dare to swear,

A ray of light passes through the forest, maybe

Those shadows that are rotating in hell.

(How many things on this call in summer night

I can say it from it, from your eyes ...) But it is just

The bird named Cangli, from the suburbs

Call us deep in the woods. Our smell

It is already a smell of garbage stinky during dawn,

Put the bones from our hot skin,

When the corner of the street, the stars gradually dimmed.

Translated

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Don't worry, it will come! Native

Don't worry, it will come! As soon as you approach,

You burn! Because of the last poem

That word will be closer than the first one

Your death: It does not stay on the way.

Then, then, then

Don't think it will go to the branches to sleep,

Or when you write, take a breath.

Even when you are thirsty in your mouth, stop

The worst desire, gentle mouth gentle

Then, then, then

Shouting, even when you tighten it hard

The knot of your four arms, in order to

The darkness of the burning hair is motionless,

Then, then, then

It will also come, the ghost knows which road from, towards you,

From the horizon or beside you, but don't worry,

It will come: from one word to another, you are older.

Translated

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internal

It's been a long time, I have always wanted to live here,

In this room I pretended,

Table, worry -free objects, windows, windows

Open to other green at the end of the night,

The heart of the bird beating in the dark evergreen vines,

The morning light everywhere has an aging shadow.

Then, then, then

I am also willing to believe in the gentleness of the sky.

I am at home, and my life will be good.

However, at the foot of the bed, there is just a spider

(Because of the garden), I didn’t take it

Step enough, she seems to be on the Internet

Waiting for my fragile soul to fall into the trap ...

Translated

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Now I know I don't have anything ...

Now I know I have nothing to have anything,

Not even this beautiful gold: rotten leaves,

Not to have these days from yesterday to tomorrow,

They patted big wings and flew towards a happy motherland.

Then, then, then

Tired of the diaspora, she is with them,

The weak beauty, together with her fading secret,

Wear fog clothes. People may bring her to

Other places, pass through rainy forests. It's like before,

I sit on the threshold of an unreal winter,

The stubborn gray bird sings there, the only call

If you are not willing to stop, like ivy. But who can say

Then, then, then

What does this call mean? I see my body weaker,

Like this pair of short fires, the fog,

A cold wind made it stronger and disappeared ... it was dark.

Translated

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sound

Who sang there, be silent? Who,

With this pure and dumb voice, sing such a wonderful song?

Could it be that it is outside the city, in Rosamatsu, in one

In the park full of snow? Or it is by the side,

Someone didn't realize that someone was listening?

Let's not worry so anxious to know him,

Because the day did not deliberately let this one

Invisible birds are walking in front. but

We have to be quiet. A sound rises, like a March of March

The wind brings power to the aging woods, and the voice smiles at us,

Without tears, it is more laughing.

Who sang there when our lights go out?

Nobody knows. Only that heart can hear-

The heart that neither wants to possess nor pursues victory.

Translated

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We see

We saw that elementary school students shouted loudly and ran

In the thick grass of the playground.

High quiet tree

And the sun at 10 o'clock in September

Like a fresh waterfall

Block the huge sky for them,

The stars shone in the heights.

*

The soul, so afraid of cold, so afraid of life,

Is she really walking on the ice endlessly,

Lonely, barefoot, and can't even read it

Childhood prayer,

Endlessly suffering from cold punishment?

*

For so many years,

Is it true, know so poorly,

The mind is so weak?

If the person crossing the road approach,

Isn't he even the most broken copper?

——I reserve grass and fast water,

I keep light

Let the boat sink a bit.

*

She approached the mouth of children's mouth

I don't know how to lie,

Wear a blue robe,

The robe is also old.

Hair quickly becomes gray

In extremely slow time.

Early morning sun

Still strengthening her shadow.

*

Behind the window -people have brushed the white window frame

(Anti -mosquito flies, anti -ghosts),

A white -haired old man leaned over

A letter, or news in my hometown.

The gloomy vines climbed along the wall.

Guard him, vine and lime, resist the morning wind,

Resistance to the long night and the other, eternal.

*

Someone uses water weaving (with gold and silver silk

Tree pattern). But I stare in disdain,

I can't see the weaver girl,

I can't see her hand -we are eager to touch.

When the entire room, weaving machine, cloth

All disappeared,

We can also recognize footprints in the wet soil ...

*

We have to stay in the cocoon for a while.

When it breaks the cocoon (very slow or suddenly),

Could it be that we can grow a pair

The wings of the silkworm, blindfolded,

Take the darkness and cold to take risks?

*

We see these things when we pass by

(Even if your hands are trembling a little,

The soul staggers),

Other things are under the same sky:

The dazzling pumpkin in the yard,

They are like the eggs of the sun,

Aging flowers, pale purple.

Light at the end of summer,

If it is just the shadow of another light,

Fastened,

I was still surprised.

Translated

Sowing period

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one

We are eager to keep pure,

Although evil has more truths.

We long for unwillingness,

Although the storm suffocated the seeds.

How light the seeds! Know this

People will be afraid of praise.

two

I am the blurred line of the tree,

The pigeons in the air slap their wings there:

You, touching you in the place where the hair is born ...

However, under the finger that desperate due to distance,

The gentle sun is cracking like a wheat.

three

The earth shows the rope here. Hope

Just rain next day, people guess in humidity

A chaos, people know that the rope will return brand new.

Death, for a moment, there are snow lotus

Fresh look ...

Four

Life is swinging on me, like a bull:

People almost believe it is powerful ...

If people can bother the bullfighters

And the assassination will be a little delayed!

five

In winter, the trees are silent.

Then one day, the laughter buzzing,

There is also a low language of the leaves,

Our garden decoration.

For someone who doesn't love,

Life is always farther.

six

Oh the early spring days

Play in the school yard,

Between the two winds!

seven

I am impatient, I am worried:

Who knows another kind of life brings

Is it a wound or a treasure? A spring

You can splash joy or fly to death.

——This is a bird. A shy girl

Go out of home. In the morning in the wet grass.

Eight

A long distance,

I see the street, its trees, its house,

And the fresh wind this season,

It often changes direction.

A large car drove past, carrying white furniture

In the shadow shrub. Essence

Life is ahead.

For me, I can count for a while.

Nine

Thousands of rain insect workers

One night; the trees blooming raindrops,

The storm sounds the distant whip.

But the sky is still bright; in the garden,

The clock of the tool sounded the morning menstruation.

ten

No one can see the wind

Carry a distant bird

And light seeds,

On the edge of the woods

Seeds germinate tomorrow.

oh! Water flow of life

Perseverance towards the low place!

eleven

(Senna River, March 14, 1947)

Ceramic crushing river is turbulent. Rising river water

Rinse a low -slope pavement stone. Because of the wind

Like a towering and dark boat from the ocean from the ocean

And underneath, carrying yellow seeds.

A taste of water is raised, distant, faint ...

People tremble,

I was taken aback.

(There was a mirror -like canal people followed, and

The canal of the factory, people throw a flower

At the source, in order to retrieve it in the city ...)

Childhood memories. The river is never the same,

The same day is the same: the person who holds the water in his hand ...

Some people light up a pile of fire on the shore.

twelve

All this green is not accumulated, but trembling and shining,

Like people seeing the wet curtain of spring water

Sensitive to the finest wearing wind; in the tree

Heights, as if a group of bees stopped,

Buzzing; soft scenery

Some birds that never see us can call us,

Some sounds, no roots, like seeds, and you,

Together with the hair hanging in front of your bright eyes.

Thirteen

I only met us for a while this Sunday,

When Feng Lian and our popularity decline:

Below the street lights, those golden turtles

It's light, and it is destroyed again. It seems deep in the park

Far -far lanterns may be for your holiday ...

I am the same, I once trust you, and your light

Burn me and left me again. Their dry shell

When falling into the dust, click. Other rising,

There are some incinerations, and I stay in the shadow.

fourteen

Everything signaled me: Lilac was anxious to live, and the children fell the ball in the park.

Then people move back some tiles from nearby,

Layer layer is exposed and carefully dressed up

The smell of a woman ... the wind uses these insignificant things

Weave a trembling cloth.And I torn it,

Because they are always alone, because they are always looking for traces.

fifteen

Ducky is open again

(But this is no longer a guarantee for anyone),

Red -tailed birds are shining, and the voice of the maid is softened

When she talks to the dog.Bee

Work on pear trees.Deep in the sky,

The tremor of this machine never disappears ...

Translated

Pay attention to sleeping, poetic habitat

Facing the sea, looking for light with black eyes.On November 16, 2015, the Poetry Society of Sleeping Poetry Club, the Poetry Club took the mission of "speaking for grassroots poets" and the purpose of promoting the "spirit of poetry", that is, the pursuit of the truth, kindness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, and the spirit of poetry.Poetry friends have been published in the collection of poems "The Spring Blossoms of Sleeping Poems" and "The Grass Ying Ying Flying on Sleeping Poems".

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