English Poems by Linda Imbler
Translated into French and Kreol Morisien by Vatsala Radhakeesoon
French Translation:
Sonder
Each person you pass on the street,
holds the strange beauty of a strange life
We all breathe the same air,
and will die without it.
Avoid narrow-tipped assumptions causing you to fail
to invest the time to know
peculiar characters, rough hewn and angular,
who enjoy the talents
of spontaneous, unplanned actions.
Some leading a saintly life on reverent missions,
others bearing subdued pain kept inside.
Many individuals have skeletons in their closet
that dance for them.
Indeed, your own closet also bears your tales.
Sonder (Constatation profonde)
Chaque personne que vous croisez dans la rue,
porte une beauté étrange d’une vie étrange.
Nous respirons tous de l’air en homogénéité,
et mourrions tous privé de cela.
Evitez des idées restreintes vous sombrant
de mieux connaitre
les êtres uniques, grotesques et cultivés,
qui se réjouissent des qualités
naissant de la spontanéité, des actes libres.
Certains menant une vie sainte berçant des missions bénies,
D’autres refoulant la souffrance au fond de leur cœurs.
Nombreux sont ceux qui ont des séquelles dans leur placard
murmurant qu’à leurs oreilles.
Bien sûr, votre armoire y cache vos histoires aussi.
Bird Landscape
We enter walls fortified by
disillusionment that belongs to us all.
A distressed area,
where portable gravestones lie prone,
and the silence indicates signs of fatigue
from trying to conceal the purpose of this place,
a retreat into wretchedness
while listening to artless stories from the gravedigger.
But, place bird roosts atop these same walls,
and watch the spirits being placated,
observe the enriching effect as time goes on,
as an amazing array of coloring bursts forth,
birthing new keen awareness of these surroundings,
as if seeing this environment for the first time,
projecting a new view of white marble.
View this space as it becomes a living landscape,
a remarkable place,
where birds, hopes, dreams, and prayers can fly.
Scène d’oiseau
On pénètre les murs ancrés
d’illusion qui nous appartiennent.
Un quartier déprimant,
où les pierres tombales portables demeurent susceptible,
et le silence démontre les signes d’épuisements
en essayant de masquer le but de ce lieu,
Un refuge en désespoir
en écoutant des histoires simples racontées par le fossoyeur.
Mais l’oiseau du voisinage se perche sur ces murs,
et regarde les âmes apaisées,
observe l’effet enrichissant (profond) au rythme du temps qui s’écoule,
comme un mélange de couleurs s’émergeant ,
créant l’enthousiasme d’explorer ces environs,
tout comme découvrant ce milieu pour la première fois,
projetant une nouvelle scène du marbre blanc.
En accueillant cette espace comme un paysage vivant,
un lieu captivant,
où les oiseaux , les espoirs , les rêves ,et les prières peuvent s’envoler.
For Teri With Regard To Bill
She always speaks to him.
Tell me how you’re doing she says.
It’s claimed there is no return journey.
It’s stated that time only flows in one direction.
Then why does she hear something other than surf
when she listens to seashells?
Pour Teri au sujet de Bill
Elle lui parle constamment.
« Dis-moi comment vas-tu » demande-t-elle.
C’est déduit qu’il n’y a pas de retour.
C’est spécifié que le temps s’écoule dans un sens.
Mais, pourquoi entend-elle d’autres bruits que celles des vagues
en écoutant aux coquillages ?
Kreol Translation:
My Crowded Bed
Every night I fall asleep with them:
The living, the dead,
all old friends, family.
They come when my dreams call them,
or they show up uninvited
on the front porch of my mind,
where they knock or ring until I answer.
Some have been there for so long.
These feel so comfortable
just making themselves at home, settling in.
I can spread my limbs out
as much as I want,
but the bed is still so crowded.
I’m surprised the mattress has not grown saggy.
Yet, for all my complaining,
I hope they keep up the knocking,
and the ringing
because they are the ones I love,
and they help me endure the dark.
Mo lili ankonbran
Touleswar mo andormi antoure ar zot:
Bann vivan, bann mor,
tou bann vie kamarad, bann fami.
Zot vini kan mo rev apel zot,
ou zot aparet kan zot anvi
lor lantre mo lespri,
e zot tape ou sone ziska ki mo reponn.
Ena ti la depi lontan.
Sa rekonfort zot
kan zot santi zot ansam kouma dan zot lakaz.
Mo kapav repoze
komie mo anvi,
me lili la touzour ankonbran.
Mo etone ki matla finn vinn las.
Mem si mo fer repros,
Mo swete ki zot kontinie tap laport,
e sone
parski se sa bann dimounn la ki mo kontan,
e zot ed mwa fer fas lanwit nwar.
,
A New Day
Upon the broken shapes
of dying sunbeams,
there is reflected the promise of a new day.
I am discovering
the stability of petals.
Where there was once heatstroke and thorns,
there’s now sunshine and roses,
growing from the promise of a new day.
It can be hard
to realize one’s true orbit,
to stand next to silver banners
that only occasionally fly,
but I’ll throw myself into maximum effort
toward the promise of a new day.
Enn nouvo zour
Lor bann form kase
reyon soley febli,
ena reflexion lespwar enn nouvo zour.
Mo pe dekouver
stabilite petal.
Kot ti ena sesres e pikan,
aster ena soley e roz,
ki pe grandi avek lespwar enn nouvo zour.
Li kapav difisil
rekonet nou vre plas,
debout akote bann banners arzante
ki zot fer anvole parfwa,
me mo fer mo zefor maximum
pou akeyir lespwar enn nouvo zour.
Linda Imbler
Vatsala Radhakeesoon Poetry, Prose, Translated Works 