Tiens-moi


Tiens fermement mon poignet
Le sable dégouline sur nos yeux
Il y a un nuage blanc de secrets
Qui envoûte la plage aux fleurs oubliées

Tiens fermement mon poignet
Le sang reflue les vagues hurlent
Et derrière un rideau de poussière
La mort nous appelle en riant

Tiens fermement mon poignet
Comme on tient une corde invisible
Pour monter jusqu’aux cieux
Lorsque l’amour nous rappelle à lui

Tiens fermement mon poignet
Le pianiste joue un blues insipide
J’ai mal au cœur laisse-moi partir
Vomir mes secrets dans une ruelle

Tiens fermement mon poignet
N’oublie pas, ne le lâche pas
Je pourrais m’envoler dans ma robe blanche
Et t’oublier, et t’oublier pour toujours

Tiens, tiens fermement,
Et mon poignet, et mon corps fantôme
Ne lâche pas mon souffle dans ton baiser
Et tiens-moi fermement contre toi

Une seconde (Pour C.)

Il y avait une chanson un peu triste
Des galets sur une plage abandonnée dans mon cœur
Je me sentais vacillante sous un orage de conseils « marie-toi et travaille dur »
Qui se voulaient bienveillants, mais m’arrachaient la peau des mains
Alors pour échapper à des requins qui venaient de loin
J’ai noyé mon cœur dans l’espoir de retrouver mon enfance
J’ai tendu la main à quelqu’un que j’avais connu il y a dix-sept ans
Comme un marécage invisible mon visage face contre le sable mouvant
Et la chanson continuait de me dire que je perdais mon temps
A écrire un roman pour attirer l’attention des anges
A oublier la mort assise sur une chaise
Une seule interstice pour laisser passer le vent
Et mon chien qui aboie lorsque la lune scintille
J’avais oublié qu’on écrit pas pour faire revenir un songe
Mais pour faire sourire ne serait-ce qu’un peu
Un ami perdu sur le chemin des horloges insensibles
Un ami imprévu, comme une libellule perchée sur la lune
Un ami qui sait vous sauver la vie, en ayant l’air
Simplement de jouer un coup rapide au billard
L’air de rien, entre un verre de champagne à l’hibiscus
Pendant que les anges essoraient mon âme au pressoir du mépris
Et que mon enfance saignait dans mes yeux délavés
J’ai failli oublier l’importance de ce qui existe
J’étais loin. J’avais couché le revers de ma manche sale
Sur du papier calciné par le feu de mon sang
J’aurais pu continuer des heures, assise sur une chaise
Mon regard transperçant le temps comme une flèche empoisonnée
Toi tu as ramassé les mots qui trainaient comme des chiens enragés
Dans le parc aux herbes folles de ma vie désordonnée
Tu m’as parlé d’un monde dans lequel on peut vivre
Un monde fait de rires et de blessures désinfectées à l’eau de vie
Tu m’as tendu tes propres doutes reliés sur du papier bleu ciel
Je n’avais plus rien osé lire d’autre que le destin que je m’étais choisi
J’ai pris ton livre entre mes mains et le destin a glissé des pages blanches
Comme un enfant dévale une pente en luge et rit dans la poudreuse
Je me suis laissée happer par la beauté de la mort lorsqu’elle est enneigée
Qu’elle se laisse poétiser par ton talent ensoleillé et tes coups d’épée dans le réel
Je me suis laissée percuter par un autre univers que la jungle qui m’obsède
Depuis mon enfance frappée par le sceau d’un soleil vert
Et du Bengale à l’Antarctique, je ne sais pas dans quel pays je serai demain
Si je serai assez en vie pour écrire assez pour
Te faire rire assez je ne sais pas si
Le soleil brûlant me laissera m’échapper, mais dans un coin de mon cœur
Si je me retrouve perdue dans une prison de sel, dans un ciel inhumain
Au milieu de gens qui ne me ressemblent pas
Qui ont le goût de la mort et le sourire de Kim Kardashian,
Je laisserai mon chien et mon dernier souffle t’accompagner en Antarctique
Nous laisserons derrière nous nos rêves les plus cadenassés
Et le drapeau de l’amitié flottant sur les espaces envoûtés de glace
Nous ferons briller un feu bleu sur les étendues blanches
Nous parlerons des heures de toutes ces amitiés
Qui comme la notre ont décalé d’une seconde l’heure de rejoindre les ombres
Du fait que cette seconde a pris la forme de l’éternité
A chaque fois que nous avons refait le monde ensemble
Et prié pour que demain nous ressemble

Là-bas, tu sais !

Il y a une route qui part de nulle part
Les nuages auraient besoin d’une pompe
Pour les regonfler alors que la pluie allume
Les herbes folles sur le goudron
Cette route serpente entre nos idées noires
Elle mène à un torrent de nostalgie
Et lorsque la Cadillac s’arrête sous les trombes d’eau noire
Cette route disparaît, et nous laisse pantelants,
Aux prises avec le rire des anges et le secret d’un monde bleu –
Et fier d’être foulé aux pieds par des âmes plus lasses que nous
J’ai emprunté cette route, c’était il y a dix ans
Il n’y avait que des ombres grises sous la pluie
J’ai essayé d’attraper le bras de l’une d’elle
Elle m’a chuchoté dans la langue de mon enfance
Quelque chose que je faisait semblant d’oublier :
« La vie est un monstre tapi dans le creux de nos souvenirs
Qui se laisse amadouer par une course folle,
Une voiture lancée à pleine vitesse sous une lune de neige »
Je me suis sentie triste, sur le chemin du retour – mais y avait-il un retour,
Alors que perdue entre les feuillages denses, à la recherche du ciel,
J’ai entrevu ton regard fugace, comme un jaguar blessé
Disparu dans une brume sombre qui était la jungle de mes peurs
Et j’ai mis le contact. J’ai roulé des heures. La vie tressautait sous mes roues.
Les trombes d’eau devenaient des silences fiévreux
Et les fleurs blanches perdues le long des tombeaux
Sur le bas-côté de la route blanche elle aussi,
M’ont indiqué le chemin vers une dernière halte
Le sourire d’un ami m’attendait, perché sur un monticule de terre
La Cadillac était égratignée, mes bras saignaient, j’ai pris mon ami dans mes bras,
Je lui ai fait promettre de m’accompagner le long de cette route
Là bas je lui ai dis là bas tu n’imagines pas
Ton cœur est trop pur et tes yeux trop mouillés par les gouttes de pluie
Qui dégoulinent sur tes cils blancs
Là bas tu n’imagines pas, loin derrière les vents hurlants
Il y a une route qui ne mène nulle part.
Cette route je l’ai empruntée en traversant la mort
Et les gués du temps, et les souvenirs que la mémoire agite
Comme le sable d’un sablier doré par nos rires.

Poem 2 – Carole Ranaivo

the street of my childhood
is full of street lamps and dead trees
my parents live at the same number
for a long time already
the ocean lives further away
there is no pier or boat to get there
and the noise of the motorcycles imitates very badly
the noise of the waves
a stranger recognizes me, my face is however pale
he calls me, what have you become he asks me
he is old, he wears a coat of dead skin
I surely look suspicious in his eyes
but he too is tired he doesn’t really have the head
to talk, let alone to keep quiet
I give the change but very quickly I launch a wish
and my body does an exemplary job
to transport my whole spirit upstairs
and into the apartment of my childhood
I lie down, rereading poems by you
your poems are always wonderful places
where I can hide
poems where the coral suns
suns of coral of vast seas
green bars blue clouds
poems where beings and things
decide by promise and by love
I read and even the cold and windy day
is in love, jealous of me
the eye glued to the window
he dreams of reading you too
February is comatose
he longs to be March
what do you become, the old one hammers
in my room of my childhood where I returned
to escape the armed hordes of hell
the ghosts of my animals prowl affectionately
I gave them an appointment
in the sixth line of one of your poems
what have we become
the question is rather where we come from
you I know, you come
from those stamps stolen for your friend
from the pure conversations of your adolescence
from that magic alphabet for which you traded your life
and the boy of your dreams finally answered you
a connection is always a connection (I’m reassured)
and the bond between two people is a real iron chain
that needs to be held tight like a rudder
(and by the way, a hint: what you see beautiful in him
only comes from what is beautiful in you)
and no, don’t apologize for talking too much about yourself
I don’t say much but to you I could tell
secrets as big as houses
all the details of my life before
my years of depression
and if black stars come one day in a troop behind me
I know I could hide in one of your poems
a sheriff at the entrance will stop the bullets of time
he will take me away in a luminous convoy
a high-speed train
to a refuge where everything has been carefully preserved
a place without hard angles, without pretense
a poem like
an endless summer
a museum without tourists
and while I forget to swim and breathe in the poem
the tender ghost of my cat gently pulls me out
he tells me that nothing matters
that everything will be fine
and behind the window
the motorcycles fall back
I hear the ocean nearby
a raven is walking around
his friend parades near him, they are two
my mother taught me that this is a signal to say
that seven years of happiness await me
and the ocean goes nowhere
it is there, it brays unperturbed
that everything is a chance
he slaps his chest
to convince me of it
chance chance, he repeats
your poetry luck, meet you luck
and February is feverish
but the temperature is rising
the things of the life give me suddenly desire
to cry with laughter fly shines

First poem – Carole Rana

your thoughts sink into thick clouds
grey and heavy as a city,
in the distance on the water, the storm rages
and your sadness is a black hole
for yes, there are treasure maps,
the books on the shelves tell,
but for how many false leads?
the proof: the boy of your dreams
has been lost in the open sea for a long time already
he writes you letters forever
sitting at the window of his childhood
and you say that this life is so
« disappointing
yet you are a moving boat!
example:
you think of a poem,
you write a poem,
you have written a poem
you keep the course with a master’s hand,
captain
and the waves break,
they cunningly shift,
and as the swell bursts into laughter
you write that the ocean teaches you :
« that you have to stand up,
if you want to be happy ».
so every day, standing up straight
you wring out the clothes from the day before,
with your courage fueled, you return to the fight
and despite the journeys without a compass
despite the contrary currents,
none of your poems is ever really
sad
Nina,
and the furrow of your ship
gently mixes sun and sea,
saves my life

Yellow lanterns – Carole Ranaivo

a guy asks me if I’m okay
I take a drink I must still be too pale
because he can see the wall and the barman through me
the guy is talking to himself he seems ready to sacrifice everything
so that we can talk and remember him one day
but I’m watching the movement of his hands
the folds of his face the contour of his mouth
the lines seem to describe no reliable path
and in the sad and dirty bar where I am not really there anymore
God takes the opportunity to ask me a riddle
he’s laughing he’s unfiltered and the riddle is unsolvable
I give up I don’t feel like playing tonight
and anyway he rambles in an unknown language
that no one knows how to understand or subtitle anymore
I disappear from the bar and take a subway
March is similar to February and the sun
hardly touches the buildings and the alleys
I am back in the apartment
the room looks like the bottom of the ocean
the place is both dark and bright
fishes are swimming in it, it looks like the current
when they brush against the top of my skin
and where I come from
I think I’ve come too far
my shadow could tell you everything
it’s detached from me and floats on the surface
from a distance it looks like pieces of crushed tires
polluted by years of loneliness and fear
yet I don’t want it to fade away
I come from afar and today the sharks of the past are looking for me
I have no footing, it could be dangerous
they knew my smell and the address of your poems
fortunately the water has dissolved my silhouette
I myself cannot say where I am and where I am hiding
I come from far away and in those moments when I remember everything and give up
books and poems can do nothing for me
the great watch beats solitary in the middle of the silence
the black stars are getting ready to win the battle
and you wake up two thousand kilometers away
in a city full of sea and sky
you went to see the whales and the dolphins
to try to forget the boy and your sorrow
and in the big blue rectangle
the bullets are real and kids in soldiers’ clothes
wait for the moment when they will smoke
forever at the window of their childhood
the world goes so badly
everything is going too fast you must know
and so many people decide only so that one day
they’ll be talked about and remembered
the sharks will find me for sure
but tonight
I feel your tenderness approaching in the water
that asks me if everything is okay if I feel better
watching for my pain, my look, my eyes
your voice like something that would say
you are here I am here
everything will be fine
and sometimes God whispers to me the secret of the enigma
he tells me: « there is nothing more beautiful on this earth
than the chain between two beings and remember
the great clock and the maps of the world lie
about space and time ».
and silently and timidly
under the water light up
little yellow lanterns
fish gather against my skin
they crackle with a thousand lights and pass through me
and there are so many books and so many poems
but laughing with you and hearing you
is my warmest shelter

15th – Poem for Nina by Carole Ranaivo -EN-

you answered me
that the boy of your dreams
is the brother you never had
when people didn’t look like you
and you felt so alone
he was the brother you never had
when your parents split up
and your father had another child
he was the brother you never had
you never met him
but you loved your conversations
and your intelligence and sensitivity
finally found an echo
in this ocean of solitude
and as an adult
you learned his language
wrote about his country
translated his favorite poets
you were saved
by the brother you never had
and you entered the world through him
and now
you look for him in your moments
of infinite loneliness
when your mother almost died
you looked for him
when you fell ill
he is the one you looked for
but the brother you never had
has grown up
and left you alone
on the other end of the phone
and you think of him night and day
you dream of a very pure place
where the two of you would be talking
and that would be enough for you
like it was enough for you
when you were abandoned
five hundred pages written
to tell him that
two young people who came to earth
to love and be loved
one of them disappearing
and the other who waits
for ever on the shore
tell me who you are Nina
and how lonely are you
you are lost in such a sad place
waiting at the end of the phone
for that brother you had
and I can’t reach you
or maybe even understand you
but you are so cold
that I can only be cold

Snow (4th poem for Nina) by Carole Ranaivo

It snows on her wrists
In her eyes it snows
Very hard her sky
Is a misty oil
That her dreams no longer ignite
And how do they want me to fall asleep
When a calm and soft and white snow
Covers his thoughts
When the snow settles
On the sofa the bed
The past endeavours of love
And further away
The hudson river ripples silently
Rolled up like a dog by a crazy cyclone
Boston is only a missed appointment
Where in a café
A girl waits alone standing
A child who will never return
Yes tell me how do they want me to fall asleep
If winter’s fingers have swallowed up
The seas the suns the corals
If the roads going somewhere
Are suddenly reversed
How do they want me to fall asleep

If the life they had before is only a photograph
That the drops from their eyes
Crinkle until they erase everything
How do they want me to fall asleep
If hell cohabits with heaven
If the soaked flowers
look so much like
misplaced knives
How do they want me to fall asleep
In this white and ashen country
Where the snow swallows
The waves the summers the boats
How do they want me to fall asleep?
Please
Let me recolor
Borrow
Red yellow green
Threaten the snow say to it
This is my friend
You don’t belong in their lives
Go back to where you came from
I beg you
Otherwise how do you want me
That I fall asleep

Winter passions

I was sat on a black bench, night
Painted white shadows on my back
I stared at you with the depth of love
The city was lurking under a wave
Of common sense and honesty
I took your hand I told you my secrecy
The hours spent far from you learning a spell
So that one day I can deliver you from hell,

On this black bench, lost in a mist of words
Every second you stayed silent was a swords’
Blow, a thunder murdering the quiet night
I told you my past and a future in sight
And you understood nothing, and I died
Old men were singing prayers, I saw a bird
Encaged like my heart, I took your hand
Put it on the lock of the cage, you wrily smiled.

You looked at the sky annoyed and dissipated the clouds
You dissolved the beauty of the night, for crowds
Were unbearable to your proud and composed face
And you dissipated my love as out of place
I was brandishing passion identity and asked you only for a mere
Ear – you told me find a friend elsewhere.

I told you something as preposterous as
I have won the swords of poetry for you as
Your eyes remained motionless, your heart a silent lake
Made of thousand liquid shining diamond as it took
Me days to breathe again
Months to walk again
Far from this black bench, night
Painted white shadows on my back.

I had stared at you with the depth of love
My heart was bleeding under a frozen wave,
Told you I did’nt look for a friend but to expose you a secrecy
Far from common sense and honesty
The hours spent far from you learning a spell
So that one day I ll deliver you from this hell,
This silver lake engulfing all your emotions
Drifting your heart away like winter clouds an upset passion

Le champ d’Hélianthes

Une goutte de myrte mon sang dans la nuit
J’ai tracé une croix blanche sur ma poitrine
Mon cadavre reposait comme une brume
Dans un champ d’Hélianthes

L’encre des fleurs bleuissait ma chair fantôme,
Tu m’as emmenée prendre feu dans les montagnes
Nous avons survolé l’enfer, et le gué du temps
Et les étoiles qui peuplent les ciels inversés

Ta voix d’évangile a coulé dans ma nuque
Ta main a éteint les fumées de cristal
Et la nuée humide de mes regrets,
Nos spectres s’attardaient près d’un port – il faisait nuit

Le moteur du bateau volé, je l’ai coupé,
Je me suis approchée de ta nuque grise
Tu bégayais en observant le phare
Et tu t’es adressé à moi ; quand le soleil s’est tu

Où est passé le métal de la voix des Dieux ?
L’as-tu fait fondre pour payer l’amarrage ?
J’ai pris ta main je l’ai posée sur l’eau
Les vagues nous ont surpris, le temps s’est arrêté

Je vais voler chaque lueur de cette ville morte
Pour tracer à ton destin un chemin lumineux
Et redessiner les contours de la nuit
Mais voilà que quelqu’un vient – plus un bruit !