America, Jack, and the Road (1) Poem by Claude Beausoleil

Kerouac, won't you tell
To jazz up the journey
First Lowell then the road
French sounds all around
The turns of the road
The twists of the tales
Improvise a desire
A secret, a regret

A song of the road

Like the one overheard
In the footsteps of giants
Of lovers of poets
Of yesterday's friends
Grown into their own
Of attempts to endure
Of childhoods bygone
On the road on the road

From the heights of the stars
To the heart of the road
Your words unfurl
Bright as the stakes
Declaimed
You repeat that elliptical
Words rise in you
Sacred ground
Of the fugitive hour
On the road on the page

You repeat that the words
Of the infinite road
Of America's fields
With skyscrapers deep
In the children's dreams
Killed by watching TV
On unbearable sets
Where they dare not dream
So gruesome the sights

The frights the monsters of life
Are banners dropped
From fits of despair
To flying saucers aglow
From propaganda's blows
To castles built in the air

translated by by Suzanne Buffam