Greeting anglophone explorers

22 Mars 2020

- Nine eleven

- A city savouring the morning

- As if thrown out from a crossbow

- Crowned by glow worms

- I am the carcass of the desert

-Istanbul

Harlem, New York

NINE ELEVEN

Kwana sana

vera Terra

O-tara oturu

cha-bah yazdah

peskunatek unnek

ni-bovac hdac

masa pange vounge

t’eka endeka

ös iundös

wutcat cait

go:ltir on bir

kwelim kwelas sebelas

sésta yksitoista

julan julajuj

Sanna shana

ma’ Maa

Nine eleven

Translated from:

Ufim – arabe Un an

arménien - latin sur la Terre

doka – gwa Neuf onze

vinmavis – perse neuf onze

micmac – breton neuf onze

pije – kabyle neuf onze

maleu – provençal neuf onze

yuchi – grec neuf onze

mongole – ossète neuf onze

yokuts – tchétchène neuf onze

gisiga – turque neuf onze

budilbud – indonésien neuf onze

awngi – finnois neuf onze

punan bah – maya neuf onze

bozo – hébreu Un an

arabe – estonien avec la Terre

..........................................................

A city savoring the morning

Stretching its legs

towards the September sun

Usually horseflies ignore this body

This morning they assail the legs

ragingly stinging one and the other

and then disintegrate

in a rustle of wings

and carapace beyond hearing

on the calves of glass

Lightning of death

Fire of Satan

and blood and blood and blood!

The legs vanish in dust

For this morning the horseflies have been led astray

by a sacrificial fury

intoxicated by a faith of vengeance

Offering themselves in martyrdom for a salvation

offering themselves an incommensurable feast

they feed on immolations by hundreds and thousands and thousands

And pain contorts the city

and Earth is a roar of agony

On this eleventh morning the world has lost an innocence

...............................................

As if thrown out from a crossbow

we whistle along above Europe

ten thousand meters above the bicycle lane

Under our feet from cotton menhirs

cumulus vapors soar

against every angel

Goose bumps rise by Frisian cold

pimples rippled on the forearm of the sea

Juniper needles plod on diesel

across the blue-green North Sea bedspread

............................................................

Crowned by glow worms

the desert termitarium swarms in daytime

and crawls at night

Hordes of invaders

challenging drought and heat

borne by wings

clustering on the loot

In the opulent cells of hardline queens

soldiers play the game

fighting one-armed defenders

through the sparkling lounges

of Luxor

Mirage for conquering species

Hatched in scattered nests

Luxury of labyrinths annexed

though less for conquest

than for falling smugly into vice

and bodies agglomerate in costly embraces

at Mandalay Bay

In the residence of termites thus is danced debauchery

are experienced chance and flesh

through delicious defeats

between the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower of Nevada

Returns without armour

stripped of all belongings

with a vagabond smile

The future of lust?

Glow worms grant it

and illuminate the night

It is time for the Las Vegas tango

Las Vegas tango is a piece of music composed by jazz musician Gil Evans

........................................................

I am the carcass of the desert

With a hollow stomach I sprawl

across two hundred seventy seven miles of slow decay

With my skin so often drowned

transformed to callus

my ribs stretch out in disorder

My ribs that you have named

and dedicated to the gods

our companions Krishna and Brahma

Osiris, Venus and Wotan, to make it short

but also to your peers

I name Buddha, Solomon and the angels

On my chest everybody has a temple

which every scavenging day erodes

One of you mentions Genesis

dating my skin to “day three of Creation”

And I answer “Why not?”

Reasonably it is without importance

but if there must be measures

let us then count years

one milliard eight hundred millions

for my coccyx

two hundred and sixty million for the tops of my ribs

six millions for the evisceration of my body

by this trickle, this torrent of days gone by

............................................................

ISTANBUL

Istanbul Istanbul

It is me once again

My beautiful, my old and beautiful

Do you still suffer?

Give me your hands

put them into mine

Bosphorus, Fatih, Galata, Atatürk and Golden Horn

I clasp and warm all your bridges

Your skin is so soft at Sultanahmet

but suppurating acrid wounds

spur my nostrils

and disfigure the hills of your face

So rid your pavement wrinkles

of some of their thickness

Be kind to your pedestrians

who polish you

and are your mobile blushers

Here is my handkerchief

Expurgate from your obstructed nose

the noise of horns once and for all

Your vessels are congested

and you always cough petroleum

You must cure your throat from polluting ships*

Are the launches your pectoral pastilles?

Don’t let the imperial glitter of your bosphorescent necklace

be tarnished by the fall of night

This is how I want you :

Wholly fresh wholly sober

So put back on your grey falcon aqueduct glasses**

Put them solidly on your Atatürk boulevard nose

and look at me

Am I asking too much of you?

Let me comb your hair

I will make you a plait

of elaborate Istiklal avenue dwellings

Give me your Beşiktaş smile

all the way to the Üsküdar piers

For certain you will be better

I will come back

My old

My beautiful

Istanbul

* The Turkish name for the Bosphorus, Boğaz, means throat

** The byzantine aqueduct, that crosses the Atatürk boulevard, is called Grey falcon arcade in Turkish : Bozdoğan Kemeri

.....................................................

One year

on Earth

Nine eleven

nine eleven

One year

with Earth