“Haitian Poetry Reading with Dr. Celucien Joseph”: Episode 1: Ignace Nau and Carl Brouard

Haitian Poetry Reading with Dr. Celucien Joseph: Episode 1: Ignace Nau and Carl Brouard

Ignace Nau, “Basses-Pyrénées” (1836)

“…Et moi voilà jeté, moi, triste passager,
Sans amours, sans amis, sur un sol étranger,
Attendait du retour l’heure lente et tardive.
Ce ciel est trop désert, ce soleil san rayon,
Ces champs, de mon pays, là-bas, sous l’horizon,
N’ont point la nature si vive.”

Ignace Nau, “Lower Pyrenees” (1836), translated by Dr. Celucien Joseph

“…And here I am thrown, as a sad passenger,
Without love, without friends, on a foreign land,
Waited for the calm and late hour to come again.
This sky is empty, this sun without rays,
These fields, of my country, over there, under the horizon,
Do not have such a lively nature.”

Carl Brouard, « Les Croix des Martyrs”

“A la Croix des Martyrs
les jours
qui ne rythme aucune horloge sonore
s’écoulent calmes, paisibles
comme un ruisseau.
La petite église silencieuse
est toujours là,
est le gazon vert.
Les cretonnes,
les passereaux rouges, lentement oscillent.
Sur l’écran de la vie,
les heures passent au ralenti.”

Carl Brouard, “The Crosses of the Martyrs”
translated by Dr. Celucien Joseph

“At the Cross of the Martyrs
the days
that beats no sound clock
flow calmly, peacefully
like a stream.
The silent little church
is still there;
it is the green grass.
The cretons,
the red sparrows calmly vacillate.
On the screen of life,
the hours pass in slow motion.”

Carl Brouard, “Solitude”

“Seul dans ma chambre.
Il pleut.
Je pense à vous.
Ah ! si vous m’aimiez un peu,
le monde serait mort à mes yeux,
puisque je ne penserais,
je ne verrais,
je ne vivrais que par vous.
Aujourd’hui,
des indifférents ont prononcé votre nom
et mon cœur a battu très fort.
Mon Dieu que je suis bête!
Si je possédais un objet de vous
peut-être
ma tristesse serait moins lourde à porter.
Mais
à quoi bon me leurrer d’espoirs fous
de rêves vains
vous portez l’indifférence
comme on porte une fleur à son corsage.”

Carl Brouard, “Loneliness”
translated by Dr. Celucien Joseph

“Alone in my room.
It’s raining.
I am thinking of you.
Ah! if you would love me a little,
the world would be dead to me,
since I wouldn’t think,
I wouldn’t see,
I would only live through you.
Today,
unconcerned people have announced your name,
and my heart beat very hard.
My God, how stupid I am!
If I had kept a souvenir from you
perhaps,
my sadness would be less heavy to endure.
But
what’s the use of tricking myself with wild hopes,
of futile dreams?
you bear the indifference
as one wears a flower on one’s bodice.”

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