The Poet Laureate of Jones Street

Smoke

“Smoke? Is that smoke?”

Voices in the hall
are asking questions.

I type faster.
I don’t want to hear them.

Suddenly fire engines race
through my mind.

My words stop.
I wait for the sound of sirens in the street

for the blue sky
to  crash.

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Fumée

Les voix dans le couloir
posent des questions :

«Est-ce que c’est vraiment de la fumée? »
« En es-tu sur? »

Je tape plus vite.
Je ne veux pas les entendre.

D’énormes camions rouges
font la course dans ma tête.

Mes mots s’arrêtent.
J’attends les sirènes dans la rue.

J’attends que le ciel bleu
s’effondre.

………………………….

2004. Traduction: Françoise Parouty
Publié: Tarabuste Editions: 2007

Each night
while Annie waits to be saved

and Sandy wags his tail
and barks “arf, arf”

old Warbucks pets and counts
his greenbacks, slapping them

down again & again
on the dining room table

in front of the news
in front of the dead and dying.

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……………………………….

Chaque soir
pendant qu’Annie attend d’être sauvée

et Sandy remue sa queue
et aboie « arf, arf »

vieux Warbucks caresse et compte
ses billets verts, en posant chacun d’eux

sans s’arrêter
sur la table de la salle à manger

devant les actualités
devant les morts et les mourants.
……………………………………………

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2004. Traduction: Françoise Parouty
Published: New York Quarterly, No 63, 2007
Publié: Liqueur 44, 2006
Inspiré par la vieille bande dessinée, “Little Orphan Annie”.