je resterai la même
et pas
le temps passera / et j’aurai accordé mon pas / au chemin changeant
je pourrais résister
et voir mes nuits en écoper
me plaindre et y voir mes jours en pâtir
ne me reste vraiment qu’à
chanter / danser / aimer
et là sûrement je m’y retrouverai
à la claire fontaine / m’en allant promener
oui, vaut mieux s’adapter, m’a rappelé la vieille dame /
Cécile son nom
TANDIS QU’ELLE MONTAIT Montréal, avril 2015
Si j'étais un arbre 
superbe photo! contrastes forts et visage perdu.
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Merci Dominique!
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quelle belle photo…..merci!
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merci Irène…
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Great photo!
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Thank you!
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Super texte et photo =)
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Merci à toi!
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Moi j’aime le texte et la photo mais le texte me parle vraiment beaucoup, surtout « adapter, pardon accorder, son pas au chemin »
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Drôle… j’avais moi-même d’abord mis « adapter »… (mais ça reste entre toi et moi, bien sûr). Ça doit avoir quelque chose à voir avec les longueurs d’onde… Et merci !
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J’aime vraiment beaucoup ce texte, le rythme est tout en délicatesse, pour aborder un thème qu’on sent pourtant douloureux…Bref, c’est beau !
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Merci, Ariane.
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Sombras profundas dibujando tu rostro… A time ago I wrote words imagining a lady, her face in deep shadows was draw by the light of late afternoon. Your photograph is what I wanted to say and it’s beautiful. I like to recite in my mind your words, your poem is a the same time a song, but there are some meanings lost in translation, what in part is good because I’m determined to learn French and that’s a gift too because reading you. Thanks Caroline.
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Querido Francis,
Here is a very rough attempt at a translation…
I gave Google some words that render in a more simple manner the meaning of this rather simple text…
i’m sure it looses some poetry along the way…
but the meaning seems pretty close… though I can’t be sure…
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Francis.
CIERTAMENTE
Voy a seguir siendo la misma persona… y no
El tiempo pasará / y yo habrá ajustado / a la carretera cambiar
Me pude resistir pero mis noches sufriría
Yo también podría quejarse pero mis días también sufriría
Todo lo que realmente puedo hacer es
Cantar / danzar / amor
Y entonces seguramente voy a encontrarme a mí mismo
a la claire fontaine / m’en allant promener *
sí, es siempre mejor para adaptarse a los tiempos actuales, la anciana me recordó
Cecilia es su nombre
* Those are the first words of an old traditional French song that we learn as kids… it was actually the first hymn of the Nouvelle-France (the French territories in North America in the 18th century)…
Those first words talk of « a clear fountain along which one goes walking »…
Apparently, at the time of the British Conquest, it was full of coded messages…
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I read a bit of Montréal history in a book about US independence. It was quite exotic with the natives taking sides, the winter and the river protecting the mountain (if I’m not mistaken it) and now it has the added charming of spies and songs.
I appreciate in a very special way your generosity to me. I think you’re the only person that I follow and visit writing the address of your page by memory, for you I don’t use the automated feed of my reader, something like save numbers of everybody in the cell phone but memorize the home to sabe it in the mind.
Your words are beautiful but Google translator is a robot without heart and a bit of the words are lost in translation. In Spanish (although I’m Aymara native and not latino so Spanish is a bit like a foreign language too) I think your words would be this way:
CIERTAMENTE
Seguiré siendo yo
y no
pasará el tiempo / y no he renunciado / al camino cambiante
podría resistir
y ver mis noches sufrir
o lamentarme y ver mis días sufrir
Todo lo que puedo hacer es
cantar / danzar / amar
y entonces seguramente me encontraré
a la claire fontaine / m’en allant promener
I know it can seems quite different, but I tried, according to my limited experience, to save the music of the sounds and the meaning of your words. I still think in this poem as strong will and hope. Merci beaucoup Caroline, there is so much beauty in your gestures as in your world of mots et images,
Francis. (funny, my name is Francis and I don’t speak « francés »)
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Yoos Pa GAR Ah Francis for putting music back into my words…
And unless I start seriously learning Spanish, I promise not to attempt this type of translation again…
Maybe one day will you translate a poem of mine in Aymara… ? so I can read it out loud and hear how it would sound… one day ;-
In the meantime, I went on YouTube to listen to some words in your native tongue…
I don’t remember hearing it before… or if I did, I wasn’t listening… It seems quite beautiful and gentle…
Thank you for visiting the way you do, Francis.
And I, too, will keep knocking on your door. ;-
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I would be happy to translate to the language I love your poetry. I would love to give so much as I receive from you. Sadly in Peru education is just in Spanish so our grandparents don’t teach their sons Aymara and our parents couldn’t teach to us, the next generation. I know the name of common things (huishyah is wood spoon) or expressions (your poetry is suma waliki, very beautiful) but we can’t speak it. I’m studying. My Spanish is fluid and quite polite but it feels foreign, that’s one reason I write in English, I’m not emotionally attached to Spanish.
Thanks Caroline, my door always will be open for you 🙂
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Well, keep taking photos… you certainly know that language!
Your pictures are full of soul and heart, and they truly inspire me. They are suma waliki.
And keep sharing your thoughts. I will keep reading your heart’s words.
Thank you, Francis. For your generous heart, and for everything else.
As for your lost mother tongue, many aboriginals here would say the same thing…
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