Purchase Issue 9
Aurélia Lassaque
trans. by Madeleine Campbell
Excerpts from in search of a face
Canto I
The sun has risen. Facing it, the boy murmurs his commandments.
Close by, kneeling, is the one he loves. Arm-deep in sand, she digs.
The boy prays: that they may remember his name, that they remember his name until the last man, that Ulysses be that man.
After, he seizes the sun with his hands, bites it and hounds it with laughter.
She has no need to hear his prayers, she knows what Ulysses’ dreams are made of.
And so she burrows like an animal maddened by storm.
A labyrinth. She wishes she could keep the sun there, make the sea her accomplice.
In the labyrinth she places small statues of clay.
One for herself, one for Ulysses.
Their hands are clasped.
A wedding is held.
But the labyrinth is made of sand.
Every morning, she must begin again and come the wedding hour, she vows twice over.
She
This island is scarred
with shrieks of laughter
from children of the high seas
in the shade of its market stalls
i tasted your games
we were scarcely ten years old
and you stowed your treasures
inside torn pockets
from old men on the shore
you stole bits of netting
to string with stones
in the shape of seashells
with trembling hands
you left one-eyed fish
and underripe fruit
on my window sill
the olive tree bore a name
i revealed to you
along with the alphabet
they carved with flint
into the masts of ships
we told one another
fantastic stories
alive with whales
who spoke a strange tongue
alive in your salt-encrusted words
and our tears were true
when the ebbing summer
made us turn from each other
Ulysses
I want you child again
to relive the days when great winds
whipped your hair into sculptures
of sand and salt
when you came to my lair
with unhurried steps
to let me admire your tousled crown
and peregrine bearing
you would not speak
but made grand gestures
the sun on your back
you summoned the shadows
and I called you my Queen
I want to slip the hands of a child
round the nape of your neck
to hold your face like a chalice
and sway to a blind man’s dance
I want to graze your foot
in the cool dust, I want
your laughter to devour me
I want to sleep when you wake
as goats clatter down the hillside
to welcome the night
I want to watch you go, to be alone
when I gather
to the sound of herding bells
the salt-sand pearls
fallen from your hair
She
Night after night a storm
flooded the reefs
with garlands of children
breaking through the darkness
in peals of white laughter
you took me by the hand
and i liked being held
by you, barely a man
yet already bound to war
you were my beast-child
heedless of the taste of blood
and i longed for your bite
Ulysses
You whispered ‘Ulysses’
a murmur
in the palm of my hand
rolling your fig-scented
tongue
over my scant offerings
your voice dwelled in the future and I feared your madness
your fevered brow and your nightly vigil
as though the fire’s secret were yours to keep
as though time and god were yours to sacrifice
to the flame
Madeleine Campbell teaches at Edinburgh University. She was awarded an ALTA Emerging Translator Menteeship for Aurélia Lassaque’s En quête d’un visage, translating her poems for Poetry International and Poems from the Edge of Extinction. She translated Maghrebi poets for University of California Book of North African Literature and MPT Magazine.
www.edinburgh.academia.edu/MadeleineCampbell
Aurélia Lassaque (1983) is bilingual poet in French and Occitan, the language of the medieval troubadours. Translated into a dozen languages she has been performing all over the five continents. Advocate of linguistic diversity, she acts as literary advisor for festivals in France, Italy and Africa. She is published in France by the prestigious publishing house Editions Bruno Doucey.
