"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Fragment two

Day 12: Translate a foreign language poem homophonically (put simply, rewrite it how it sounds, not how it translates). I chose Jeunesse Dorée by the Belgian poet Jan de Roek (but I only did part of it...it's quite long).

In heated excellence his vermin lead upheld
and nameless. The mural vocalizes met verbiage,
words angered pending the angst of a goatherd as seen pared in her sleep,
tousled house pets and morsels.

Helpful legend hurdled in my house and larvae,
entrusted vendor.
The speaker, a raven elegant
stands in my eye.

My brother, genesis of miles, glee can't
meet empty handed, meddling bare,
meet in word and tryst; red mile
of tram in wonder and heart stock as
reeds nightmare the bewildered.
Glee waits, green dyer is chosen.

The tide late lightens now, in rust my helm knocks at
my hands in winters gloves.
The ripples shrivel under a rig of cursive and breaking
apple garden, in crossing
dust air taken of my war hooves.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Q-Tip, Breathe And Stop

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