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World Poetry Translation Project


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Preamble (A Rough Draft For An Ars Poetica)

by Jean Cocteau

...Preamble

A rough draft
for an ars poetica

. . . . . . .

Let's get our dreams unstuck

The grain of rye
free from the prattle of grass
et loin de arbres orateurs

I

plant

it

It will sprout


But forget about
the rustic festivities

For the explosive word
falls harmlessly
eternal through
the compact generations

and except for you

nothing
denotates

its sweet-scented dynamite

Greetings
I discard eloquence
the empty sail
and the swollen sail
which cause the ship
to lose her course

My ink nicks
and there

and there

and there

and
there

sleeps
deep poetry

The mirror-paneled wardrobe
washing down ice-floes
the little eskimo girl

dreaming
in a heap
of moist negroes
her nose was
flattened
against the window-pane
of dreary Christmases

A white bear
adorned with chromatic moire

dries himself in the midnight sun

Liners

The huge luxury item

Slowly founders
all its lights aglow

and so
sinks the evening-dress ball
into the thousand mirrors
of the palace hotel

And now
it is I

the thin Columbus of phenomena
alone
in the front
of a mirror-paneled wardrobe
full of linen
and locking with a key

The obstinate miner
of the void
exploits
his fertile mine

the potential in the rough
glitters there
mingling with its white rock

Oh
princess of the mad sleep
listen to my horn
and my pack of hounds

I deliver you
from the forest
where we came upon the spell

Here we are
by the pen
one with the other
wedded
on the page

Isles sobs of Ariadne

Ariadnes
dragging along
Aridnes seals

for I betray you my fair stanzas
to
run and awaken
elsewhere

I plan no architecture

Simply
deaf
like you Beethoven

blind
like you
Homer
numberless old man

born everywhere

I elaborate
in the prairies of inner
silence

and the work of the mission
and the poem of the work
and the stanza of the poem
and the group of the stanza
and the words of the group
and the letters of the word
and the least
loop of the letters

it's your foot
of attentive satin
that I place in position
pink
tightrope walker
sucked up by the void

to the left to the right
the god gives a shake
and I walk
towards the other side
with infinite precaution


American Review | www.PaperLyon.com | McGill Live Radio | Publish
 

  Translations for this Poem
 English  Spanish  French  Italian
 Portuguese  Korean  Russian  Chinese
 Japanese      
 

  Poems by Jean Cocteau
  1. Preamble A Rough Draft For An Ars Poe
 
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPRSTVWY[ALL] 
  Jack Gilbert 
  Jack Kerouac 
  Jack Prelutsky 
  Jack Spicer 
  James A. Emanuel 
  James Schuyler 
  James Tate 
  James Wright 
  Jane Kenyon 
  Jean Cocteau 
  Jean Toomer 
  Jim Carroll 
  John Betjeman 
  John Clare 
  John Donne 
  John Dryden 
  John Keats 
  John Masefield 
  John Milton 
  John Wilmot 
  Jon Anderson 
  Jonathan Swift 
  Jorge Luis Borges 
  Jorie Graham 
  Joseph Brodsky 
  Joseph Warton 
  Judy Grahn 

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