Actually, it's Jerry Cantrell's song and it's also his birthday, shared with French poet Stéphane Mallarmé. Yes, the poem below is his and not mine, évidemment. Bonne anniversaire, vous artistes que j'aime.
La chevelure vol d'une flamme à l'extrême
Occident de désirs pour la tout déployer
Se pose (je dirais mourir un diadème)
Vers le front couronné son ancien foyer
Mais sans or soupirer que cette vive nue
L'ignition du feu toujours intérieur
Originellement la seule continue
Dans le joyau de l'oeil véridique ou rieur
Une nudité de héros tendre diffame
Celle qui ne mouvant astre ni feux au doigt
Rien qu'à simplifier avec gloire la femme
Accomplit par son chef fulgurante l'exploit
De semer de rubis le doute qu'elle écorche
Ainsi qu'une joyeuse et tutélaire torche.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
My Song
Posted by Randal Graves at 11:40 AM
Labels: i love/hate france, i'm a lazy lazy man, music, real poets
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12 comments:
Hmmm, I liked that song. It would not have naturally flowed through my transom, but thanks to you...
Well whatever.
I have t-shirt meme issues to sort out, gotta run.
Ok, another freaky video. Don't you have any Gregorian Chant videos or something? ;-)
Fran, his solo stuff is good. You'd probably recognize Alice In Chains moreso. And yeah, get cracking on that!
ME, you mean like this one?
I might be the only atheist you know who owns some of that crap, so just watch it. ;-)
Now that was nice!! I think you're a soul just waiting to be converted. Wait....let me go get my holy water and bible. Don't move...I'll be right back. ;-)
Hey, if want to watch what happens when a bible and heathen flesh meet - hint: it involves flames - come on over. ;-)
From that video I began to glimpse that you might be into some kinkier shit than even I had imagined. Erotic live burials, straight-edge chest shaving. My my my. Alright, but I won't wear the ball gown. That takes it all too far.
"Is this where your love for Poe comes into play?" quoth the Raven before the basement burial.
Kinky? Bah, I'm nothing but a good boy who's on a mission-ary. Ugh, that was awful. I apologize for my feeble attempt at humor. Now where did I put the whip cream, chocolate syrup and the video camera. After all, Easter falls on a Sundae.
Randal, so I'm not the only one who routinely observes the birthdays of famous people. I light a candle every year for the birthday of T.E. Lawrence.
We should start a support group or something.
Salut,
Marjorie
poems are cooler in French or maybe in France...whichever you prefer.
Don't forget to write about me when it's my birthday.
marjorie, well, it's more of a posting thing I would wager, but for certain ones, I'll break out their music or poetry or novels on such days.
fot, generally yes, especially when it comes to l'amour, but I think the sing-song, sharp nature of Germanic languages, especially English, certainly has its merits. Go English!
I'd need to know when that is, and then we'll have a giant party with booze and gambling. It'll be just like a speakeasy.
Oops sorry, I'm late with the cake. Okay here it is and I'm sorry I licked off some of the icing on the way over.
Oh that's fine, eat all the icing you wish. The actual cake - devil's food, I hope - is the most important part.
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