T (no first name) Wignesan


The Frog, Translation Of Etiemble's Quintet: La Grenouille By T. Wignesan - Poem by T (no first name) Wignesan

(This quintet rhymed: ababc might in its propos -
perhaps in its imagery and allusion - be based on some family history involving the tragedy over a son and the subsequent adoption of a daughter. If I’m wrong I offer my profoundest apologies in advance.)

Lime-stuck last night by the frozen water of the pond,
frog boxed in glass window fending off thickening waters,
it’s our naked daughter, heart of cold gold, shivering
recumbent statue hardened: withstanding the rigours of
our wars:
stuck the other night by the cold of its/her times.


This’s our hardened son who plays the frog and to
himself lies,
caresses sharks, courts a female cosair
puts trust in spurious air which entices and captures,
flimsy trapped game strangling us by the collar,
frogs petrified by the fright of our times.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,2014





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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 8, 2014


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