MAN'S FAVORITE SPORT Poem by Pierre Alféri

No proof
That we're advancing
Doubt
Insinuated itself
That's when
I admitted that a good thing might not be good
You say
That happiness is one thing and sadness
Another the two compatible
Let's move on.


So? Happy? I was joking.
We're now driving on the flat
Between two luminous crates of jungle
We've caught the scent of home. Even before
We'd turned round, sounded each other out
A crowd of delirious students clamored for
Our first impressions. - This voyage
Has no scientific value. No proof
That we're advancing. Something definitely came out
Of the foam thanks to the excessive hygrometry
Of the region and its waters
So profuse that they spit fish lacking lures
Alas we're pathetic mycologists
And our art of fishing is purely academic.
We discover interesting samples
Of lava in dusty shop windows
We obtain them at low prices but
Don't think of melting them down
To extract the pendulum, the abbreviated message.
Ah we make a good couple when one
Catches up with the other. Doubt
Insinuated itself - do you remember? -
When we ended up in that forest of parasol mushrooms.
Your hair was in a bit of a mess, I still had
My cap with earflaps, my jacket
And my tweed knickerbockers with leather braces.
- First-rate, I said and you on tiptoe
To reach the ring the bitter aftertaste warned you
That it's poisonous. The catch, what's more,
Didn't really conform to the rules. - I remember
The minimal credit accorded by the budding scholar
I was to my mother when she said I had
Eyes bigger than my stomach. We were
Punished for our delusions of grandeur
That led us to sin but in an infinitely small way
Catching a purulent mycosis. That's when
I admitted that a good thing might not be good
And I never went back on it.
To say that for that it was necessary
Free and bound tightly, given over
One to the other to descend
To the centre of the Earth
Where the museums are shut, buses no longer circulate
To be tossed out to the antipodes
On a shell bed. Anyway
The landscape's unchanged, the grocer makes it his duty
To speak to us as though he'd seen us yesterday.
- Just a light fluttering
Between sky and subsoil, I wouldn't call
That dry land. Of course
I knew you had a soul
And fluctuations within it. You say
That happiness is one thing and sadness
Another, the two compatible. That's beyond my domain.
The shadows of those iguanas follow us
Disguised and fattened like amanita (parasol mushrooms!)
Through a game of perspective: no danger.
The word ‘real' in your mouth closes
The back door. Calm, I will be completely
When we've put a few cable lengths
Between them and him. Lets move on
To your English revision lesson.
You say: it was a nice journey
I translate: une bonne journée.

Translation: 2012, Kate Campbell