By Emmanuel Moses
Ce nouveau recueil d’Emmanuel Moses devrait faire du bien à ceux qui ont l’âme morose. L’auteur en verve y retourne comme un gant les pictures d’un quotidien «sombre comme le temps» et nous les rend colorées comme des cornets de glace qu’il déguste à los angeles dossier avec une joie réjouissante. L’ensemble éclabousse d’allégresse et de trouvailles. On dirait du Chagall en poésie.
Prix Théophile Gautier 2015
Poète, écrivain et traducteur, Emmanuel Moses est né à Casablanca (Maroc) en 1959. Il a passé son enfance à Paris avant de s'installer à Jérusalem en 1969. Depuis 1986, il vit et travaille à Paris.
Mon père dit : j'aimerais ne plus peser
sur tes épaules
Si tu me descendais à terre
on pourrait marcher côte à côte
Je ne suis pas aveugle ni paralytique
Seulement un peu mort
Pour le moment
Peut-être qu'on pourrait se donner los angeles main
Comme quand tu étais petit
Maintenant c'est moi qui suis petit
Mais je grandirai
J'ai l'éternité pour ça. .
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Extra resources for Sombre comme le temps
Mhen one travels, one might "hit" a storm. The shoe must be tied to the ankle. As for we who "love to be astonished," McDonalds is the world's largest purchaser of beef eyeballs. They went out with bows and armbands to shoot at the hay. It's as easy as waves, slopping water. Tiaverse, watch, and cease. He had the hands of an artist. Penelope reworking the twill. " I'11just keep myself from picking up the telephone, in order to get some work done. What memory is not a "gripping" thought. Only fragments are accurate.
A healthy dialectic between poetry and prose. Good days go by fast, too fast. On the low rectangular coffee table was a rack for the postcard collection. A lot of questions, a few answers, the progress of questioning, the spot on the brain where these words will go. For example, I remember the blue coat with the red piping but I don't remember myself in it. There was green dust on the park bench, sanded by bottoms. " Raisins, cheese, the fapanese. I was stocking counter-convention in the localized world of the kitchen steam and rain.
As for we who "love to be astonished," the night is lit. Remarkably to learn to look. My father would say I've a "big day" tomor- a storm row. Words are not always adequate to the occasion, and my "probably" sounded hopeless. It's real, why, so, it's wrong. I mentioned my face because I am made that way wonderfully like a shadow I do not despise. But if I don't like the first dress I try on, I won't like any. It is only a coincidence. Whose shadow who's. At the circus the elephants were more beautiful than the horses, more touching than the clowns, and more graceful than the tigers trained to jump on their backs.