Literature in Translation |

from Decarceration

from Decarceration

 

 

And in a flash, this insight that you are

matter which has crossed centuries of flesh,

which makes you feel how much you are,

already, there,

off the subject.

 

*

 

Odd, indeed, this experience of

the other,

of something almost

despite

oneself.

Stemming, however, from others,

stemming into others …

 

*

 

Incarcerated in a continual absence,

this body from which you are dislodged

incessantly, which

incessantly revives you

in a vast operation

of recuperation.

 

*

 

Specify your position, where you should be, how

to double up, are you at ease with yourself,

count the victims, learn

who pulls the strings — execute,

always, an appraisal

of the area.

 

*

 

Flesh, however,

as a limit

ever impossible

to override.

 

*

 

This body that weighs distances,

evaluates trajectories,

dikes itself up in space-time,

in a rush of blood

sent back

to rugged matter.

 

*

 

You stem from a union

which took root

and flew

into pieces.

 

 

—from Désincarcération (© Éditions L’Âge d’Homme, 2017)

 

 

/     /     /     /     /

 

A Note on the Translations and the Poet

I first became acquainted with Charline Lambert’s poetry through another project, an anthology of Belgian francophone poetry, selected and edited by Chris Tanasescu (Margento), which I am currently translating. Chris gave me a few of Lambert’s poems to translate. I was immediately struck by the intensity and concision of her writing, her deep engagement with essential themes (desire, the body, subjectivity, the other) which she explores on both psychological and philosophical levels, her unusual use of language (as she occasionally appeals to resonant rare words and scientific terms), and her intricate yet never gratuitous wordplay, which sometimes involves intentional syntactic, semantic, and grammatical ambiguity — that is, multiplicity — as illustrations of the struggle and the resoluteness of language to reflect complex states of feeling, thought, and perception. I can add that Lambert’s books are not “collections” of poems and poetic prose texts, but rather consist of a single long sequence of interconnected pieces approaching a salient theme from various angles. To make a long story short, it did not take me long to wish to discover more of her work … And I have now produced translation manuscripts of her four books.

—John Taylor

 

 

/     /     /     /     /

 

Et d’un éclat, cette intuition d’être une

matière qui a traversé des siècles de chair,

qui te fait sentir combien tu es,

déjà, là

hors-sujet.

 

*

 

Curieuse, en effet, cette expérience de

l’autre,

de quelque chose presque


malgré

soi.

Issue pourtant d’autres,

issues dans d’autres …

 

*

 

Incarcéré dans une continuelle absence,

ce corps duquel il te déloge

sans cesse, qui

sans cesse te relance

dans une vaste entreprise

de récupération.

 

*

 

Précise ta position, où faut-il se mettre,

comment se tordre, es-tu bien en toi, nombre

de victimes, qui

tire les ficelles, exécuter,

toujours, une lecturedes lieux.

 

*

 

Une chair, pourtant

comme une limite

à ne jamais pouvoir

outrepasser.

 

*

 

Ce corps qui pèse des distances,

évalue des trajectoires,

s’endigue dans l’espace-temps,

d’un coup de sang

retourné à

une matière accidentée.

 

*

 

Tu es l’issue d’une union

qui a pris

et volé

en éclats.

 

— Charline Lambert, from Désincarcération (© Éditions L’Âge d’Homme, 2017)

Contributor
Charline Lambert

Charline Lambert was born in 1989 in Liège, Belgium. She is the author of four books of poetry: Chanvre et lierre (“Hemp and Ivy,” Éditions Le Taillis Pré, 2016), Sous dialyses (“Dialyzing,” Éditions L’Âge d’Homme, 2016), Désincarcération (“Decarceration,” Éditions L’Âge d’Homme, 2017), and Une salve (“A Salvo,” Éditions L’Âge d’Homme, 2020). She is currently finishing her Ph.D. thesis on the relation between poetry and deafness.

Contributor
John Taylor

John Taylor is an American writer who lives in France. As a translator from three languages (French, Italian, Greek) and as a critic who has written books of essays about contemporary poets from all the European countries, he has long been one of the bridges between European literature and English-speaking countries. Besides Jean Frémon’s Portrait Tales, his recent translations include Franca Mancinelli’s All the Eyes that I Have Opened (Black Square Editions), Elias Petropoulos’s Mirror for You: Collected Poems 1967-1999 (Cycladic Press), and Philippe Jaccottet’s La Clarté Notre-Dame & The Last Book of the Madrigals (Seagull Books).

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