LE GRAND COMBAT | THE GREAT FIGHT | ||||
Henri Michaux | trans. Richard Ellmann | ||||
A R.-M. Hermant Il l'emparouille et l'endosque contre terre; Il le rague et le roupète jusqu'à son drâle; Il le pratèle et le libucque et lui barufle les ouillais; Il le tocarde et le marmine, Le manage rape à ri et ripe à ra. Enfin il l'écorcobalisse. L'autre hésite, s'espudrine, se défaisse, se torse et
Il se reprise et s'emmargine ... mais en vain Le cerceau tombe qui a tant roulé. Abrah! Abrah! Abrah! Le pied a failli! Le bras a cassé! Le sang a coulé! Fouille, fouille, fouille, Dans la marmite de son ventre est un grand secret Mégères alentour qui pleurez dans vos mouchoirs; On s'étonne, on s'étonne, on s'étonne Et on vous regarde On cherche aussi, nous autres, le Grand Secret. |
To R.-M. Hermant He embowerates and enbacks him on the ground. He raggs him and rumpets him up to his drale; He praggles him and libucks him and berifles his testeries; He tricards him and morones him, He grobels him rasp by rip and risp by rap. Finally he enscorchorizes him. The other hesitates, espudates himself, unbrines himself,
He mends and immarginates himself ... but in vain The hoop which has rolled so far falls. Abrah! Abrah! Abrah! The foot's collapsed! The arm's broken! The blood's run out! Dig, dig, dig, In the pot of his belly there's a big secret You neighborhood shrews who cry into your handkerchiefs; We're amazed, we're amazed, we're amazed And we watch you We others, we're looking for the Big Secret too. |
Copyright © New Directions Publishing Corp. 1968 - publ. New Directions Publishing Corp.
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