I was caught in a whirl, with loud shouts and drum rolls,
Flags streaming in the wind, delirious prophecies,
Squirting blood... Suddenly, from their feasts I was torn
And fell into rest which ignores time and worries.
I shut a crystal door on my new peacefulness.
Once the tumult had ceased, I was god, though vanquished
I saw how wings fluttered high above my recess,
But nothing would upset now my secluded bliss.
And a stubborn repose limits my violence.
I don't know if I am a dream or a soldier,
Nor the place of the fight causing my hesitance,
Nor shall I know under whose standard and order
I fought, the day I'll throw away helmet, shield, lance
And flee this rubbish fray for a bed of silence.
a wonderful tale of struggle and redemption the dream of lasting peace for self and world a fine poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
STELE Un tourbillon m'a pris. Eclats, tambours battants, Pavillons claquetant, délires de prophètes, Sang giclant, quand soudain arraché à leur fêtes Je chus dans ce repos qui ne connaît de temps. Le cristal sur ma paix referma ses battants. Le tumulte apaisé, je fus ciel et défaite. Je voyais s'agiter des ailes sur mes faîtes, Mais rien ne dérangeait mes lointains éclatants. Un sommeil obstiné borne ma violence. J'ignore si je suis le songe ou le soudard, Où se tient ce conflit qui m'habite et balance Et je n'aurai connu quel fut mon étendard Quand je déserterai, jetant casque, écu, lance, Ce combat de copeaux sur un lit de silence. Michel Galiana (c) 2006