Post by Robin on May 25, 2006 17:30:35 GMT -8
This started out as an ode to a kid I have a twenty foot boner for, but then spiralled into an ode to Camille Claudel, who had her talent stamped out by the forever-PMSing Rodin, then into a ramble about the Red Girl from Jamaica Kincaid's Annie John, and then it just turned into another one of my sappy love things. I like how this one turned out. It kept the French of Claudel, the islandness of the Red Girl, and the lovesickness of my Ian.
Hopefully ya'll like it, and hopefully my French isn't all wrong.
-----------------
That spray of freckles on your nose,
Just like your name,
Hits like a feral ocean wave;
All cool, all flash, all debonair,
Then gone.
Flashing lights on the beach at night,
Illuminating a scarlet hibiscus inferno.
Check it out, it’s Dante’s dream,
Rodin’s salvation,
Claudel’s agony.
Oh, Camille, where did your inferno go?
Did it fly away to Barbados like little Annie John,
Or did it slip away like the Red Girl,
Gone in a shower of marbles, blue porcelain ones?
Speckle your face with salt mist;
Speckle my shirt with your tears.
Le feu n'est pas ici.
All cool, all flash, all debonair,
Then gone.
Burn your phoenix silhouette into my eyelids,
Scorch it into my retina.
It’ll always be etched there, because she will rise again;
Montag and his Clarisse-Fabian dreams,
Singing songs about the phoenix that is you,
With that face like a white milk-crystal,
Hair mirroring the hibiscus inferno you disappeared into.
A bird of flames, elegant in Antigua-sky-gray,
Phoenix se levant des cendres
She will rise again.
My skin burns with the heat of you:
Flushed, dry, fever tender.
Pour toujours fièvre de jungle
A tropical disease I can’t shake,
Like a loving STD,
With fructifying pain and pointless soaring temperatures,
And open sores that come and go with the rhythm of your love,
With the rise and fall of the tide.
High tide, we’re all tight, low tide, bleeding comes,
Like the flowers all around our house.
That spray of freckles on your nose,
Just like the bouquet I gave you the last time I saw you,
Bright red, a nosegay from my heart,
Taking the brunt of the hurricane off of you,
Just a little spray of feral ocean wave,
Peux j'avoir un peu de terre?
I have to replant those bleeding hearts,
Even though you, you’re still living free, and leaving.
All cool, all flash, all debonair,
Then gone.
Hopefully ya'll like it, and hopefully my French isn't all wrong.
-----------------
That spray of freckles on your nose,
Just like your name,
Hits like a feral ocean wave;
All cool, all flash, all debonair,
Then gone.
Flashing lights on the beach at night,
Illuminating a scarlet hibiscus inferno.
Check it out, it’s Dante’s dream,
Rodin’s salvation,
Claudel’s agony.
Oh, Camille, where did your inferno go?
Did it fly away to Barbados like little Annie John,
Or did it slip away like the Red Girl,
Gone in a shower of marbles, blue porcelain ones?
Speckle your face with salt mist;
Speckle my shirt with your tears.
Le feu n'est pas ici.
All cool, all flash, all debonair,
Then gone.
Burn your phoenix silhouette into my eyelids,
Scorch it into my retina.
It’ll always be etched there, because she will rise again;
Montag and his Clarisse-Fabian dreams,
Singing songs about the phoenix that is you,
With that face like a white milk-crystal,
Hair mirroring the hibiscus inferno you disappeared into.
A bird of flames, elegant in Antigua-sky-gray,
Phoenix se levant des cendres
She will rise again.
My skin burns with the heat of you:
Flushed, dry, fever tender.
Pour toujours fièvre de jungle
A tropical disease I can’t shake,
Like a loving STD,
With fructifying pain and pointless soaring temperatures,
And open sores that come and go with the rhythm of your love,
With the rise and fall of the tide.
High tide, we’re all tight, low tide, bleeding comes,
Like the flowers all around our house.
That spray of freckles on your nose,
Just like the bouquet I gave you the last time I saw you,
Bright red, a nosegay from my heart,
Taking the brunt of the hurricane off of you,
Just a little spray of feral ocean wave,
Peux j'avoir un peu de terre?
I have to replant those bleeding hearts,
Even though you, you’re still living free, and leaving.
All cool, all flash, all debonair,
Then gone.