This poem is the first page--
the first poem, the [? luminaire. ?]
When you open a book, entitled, "Tombeau de Du Bellay."
So I wrote a book about Joachim Du Bellay, the French poet
of 16th century.
"Tombeau du Du Bellay."
And the book starts with this poem.
So the title is "Qui Quoi," "Who What," and two
because--Comment dit-on tutoyer ?
Says to the familiar form.
[INAUDIBLE]
Bon. Parmi les personnages, les dédicataires
tutoyés, il y a aussi Joachim Du Bellay, la poésie, tout.
So amongst the people referred to in the familiar form,
thou is the poet Joachim Du Bellay.
Qui, quoi ?
Il y a longtemps que tu n'existes pas.
Visage quelque fois célèbre et suffisant.
Comment je t'aime ?
Je ne sais depuis longtemps.
Je t'aime avec indifférence.
Je t'aime à haine, par omission,
par murmure, par lâcheté, avec obstination,
contre toute vraisemblance.
Je t'aime en te perdant, pour perdre ce moi,
qui refuse d'être des nôtres, entraînés de poupes,
ce balcon chantourné sur le sel.
Exquis de dos trainés entre deux eaux.
Maintenant, quoi ?
Bouche punie, bouche punie, coeur arpentant l'orbite.
Une question à tout frayant en vain le tiers.
For a long time, you have not existed.
Face occasionally celebrated and sufficient.
How I love you, I do not know for a long time.
I have been loving you indifferently.
I love you to hate, through an omission, through a murmur,
through cowardice.
Obstinately.
Against all likelihood.
I love you and losing you in order to lose.
This me who refuses to be one of us carried away from the stern,
this jigsawed-balcony over the salt.
Ex who, dragged by the back between surface and depth.
Now what?
Punished mouth, punished mouth heart surveying the orbit
a question for all wearing the third sin in vain.