"The Swimmer," again.
Asleep in silent water, O passer-by,
Prisoner of words which have not yet been uttered,
I dream in the depths of a well where all is inverted,
My eyelids are shuttered on sightless eyes;
The noonday strikes vainly at the waters,
Moving shadows swing beneath the surface,
I am further from life than a corpse.
All my secrets are sinking. I gnaw at my lips -
Lips which tremble with sleep and lost visions
And uncertain memories of speech.
What angler, leaning above with a magic net,
Would find in these depths of dark water
This voiceless song, this tangled shape
Among these water-flowers which are not corrollate,
This distant swimmer, hidden in her body
Of light, or captive and conquered, a soul asleep?
Catch me if you can, watcher who holds the net,
I float with arms outstretched like a cross of flesh.
Discover my dying reflections in these deeps,
Drag me from sleep, where my worlds are made
And unmade! If you haul me into the air
You will read unveiled dreams upon my face.
- Marie-Jeanne Durry
Prisoner of words which have not yet been uttered,
I dream in the depths of a well where all is inverted,
My eyelids are shuttered on sightless eyes;
The noonday strikes vainly at the waters,
Moving shadows swing beneath the surface,
I am further from life than a corpse.
All my secrets are sinking. I gnaw at my lips -
Lips which tremble with sleep and lost visions
And uncertain memories of speech.
What angler, leaning above with a magic net,
Would find in these depths of dark water
This voiceless song, this tangled shape
Among these water-flowers which are not corrollate,
This distant swimmer, hidden in her body
Of light, or captive and conquered, a soul asleep?
Catch me if you can, watcher who holds the net,
I float with arms outstretched like a cross of flesh.
Discover my dying reflections in these deeps,
Drag me from sleep, where my worlds are made
And unmade! If you haul me into the air
You will read unveiled dreams upon my face.
- Marie-Jeanne Durry