JULES SUPERVIELLE ~

 

Homesick for the Earth

One day we'll say 'The sun ruled then.

Don't you remember how it shone on the twigs,

on the old, as well as the wide-eyed young?

It knew how to make all things vivid

the second it alighted on them.

It could run just like the racehorse.

How can we forget the time we had on earth?

If we dropped a plate it clattered.

We'd look around like connoisseurs,

alert to the slightest nuance of the air,

knew if a friend was coming towards us.

We'd pick daffodils, collect pebbles, shells —

when we couldn't catch the smoke.

Now smoke is all we hold in our hands.'

________________________________

Jules Supervielle (1884-1960)

translated by Moniza Alvi

JULES SUPERVIELLE ~

Jules Supervielle (1884–1960) was born in Montevideo, studied in France, then lived alternately in a Paris suburb and in Montevideo. He published ten collections of poetry. T.S. Eliot said of him and Saint-John Perse, "There are no two poets of their generations of whose permanence I feel more assured."

Secret Sea



When no one's watching it,

The sea stops being the sea

And turns into what we are

When no one can see us.

It spawns other kinds of fish

And makes other kinds of waves.

It's the sea for the sea

And for those dreaming of it,

Just as I am doing here.








"A gray ox in China. . ."



A gray ox in China,

Asleep in his stable,

Stirs and stretches his spine.

An ox in Uruguay,

At the very same time,

Turns around to see

If anyone has moved.

Flying past above both,

One at day, one at night,

A bird soundlessly makes

A tour of the planet

And never touches it

And never comes to rest.








Planet



The sun is rising on Venus;

Over the planet a slight stir.

Is it a barge with no oarsman

Sailing across a sleeping lake,

Is it a memory of Earth

Arriving up here awkwardly,

A flower winding on its stem

In these reeds where there are no birds

Turning its face up to the light

Nettling the inhuman atmosphere?








Rain and the Tyrants


I watch the falling rain

And the puddles that make

Our dingy planet shine.

A clean rain is falling

As it fell in Homer's time

And in the time of Villon.

It falls on mother and child

And on the backs of sheep

Rain is falling again

But it cannot soften

Either the iron hearts

Or hard heads of tyrants

Or shower them with the grace

Of perfect astonishment.

Gentle rain is falling

Everywhere in Europe

Putting all the living

In the same envelope

Despite the infantry

Loading their rifles

And despite the newspapers

Beckoning to us.

A gentle rain

Drenching the flags.



 
 _______________________________


translated from the French by Geoffrey Gardner 

JULES SUPERVIELLE
The Horses of Time
Tamarack Editions, 1985

EARTH ~






JULES SUPERVIELLE




PROPHECY


One day the Earth will be
just a blind space turning,
night confused with day.
Under the vast Andean sky
there'll be no more mountains,
not a rock or ravine.


Only one balcony will remain
of all the world's buildings,
and of the human mappa mundi,
limitless sorrow.
In place of the Atlantic Ocean,
a little saltiness in the air,
and a fish, flying and magical
with no knowledge of the sea.


In a car of the 1900s (no road
for its wheels) three girls
of that time, pressing onwards
like ghosts in the fog.
They'll peer through the door
thinking they're nearing Paris
when the odor of the sky
grips them by the throat.


Instead of a forest
there'll be one bird singing,
which nobody will ever place,
or prefer, or even hear.
Except for God, who listening out,
proclaims it a goldfinch.






translated from the French by Monica Alvi

katsushika-hokusai


Jules Supervielle (16 Jan 1884 ~ 17 May 1960) was a French poet and writer born in Uruguay.