Briso de lus (Miettes de lumière) - Emmanuel Desiles

Briso de lus (Miettes de lumière) - Emmanuel Desiles

Moun istòri coumenço mounte calon li plour. Soulet lou riéu regolo. Carrejo tóuti li mourbin em'éu. Au founs dóu riéu soumiho l'escarpo. Comto mai de cènt an. Lis escarpo vivon long-tèms. L'escarpo se remèmbro rèn, e es tant miés. De tout biais, emai se souvenguèsse de quicon, l'escarpo quincarié rèn, d'abord que lis escarpo podon pas parla. Lou sabèn tóuti. L'escarpo saup que fai bèu deforo, au fiéu de l'aigo, e acò ié sufis.

    Moun istòri coumenço souto l'oumbro caieto d'uno figuiero. À soun pèd ié serpejo un riéu. Dins lou cèu, soulet quàuquis aucèu volon en se crousant lèu lèu. Proubable qu'es miejour. La panouio di piboulo cantou-nejo souto-voues. Proubable tambèn qu'es lou mes de jun. Lou crid di cri-cri sara duradis, me pènse.

My story begins where the crying stops. Only the stream flows. It has taken all the sorrows with it. At the bottom of the stream lies the carp. It is over a hundred years old. Carp live long. The carp doesn't remember anything, and that's good. Anyway, if it remembered, the carp would not talk, because carp do not talk. Everyone knows that. The carp knows that outside, on the surface, the weather is nice and that is enough for him.

    My story begins under the shade of a fig tree mixed with sun. A stream flows at its foot. In the sky, only a few birds in a hurry fly by. It must not be far from noon. The leaves of the poplars hum gently. It must not be far from June either. The locusts, I think, are beginning to sing for a long time.

Tales of mystical inspiration, "between heaven and earth", which invite reflection.

In Occitan Provençal. French version by the author.
Editions L'aucèu libre.