Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance - Carl Sandburg..........Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject - John Keats .........Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge - William Wordsworth ..........Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand - Plato .........No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher. For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language - Samuel Taylor Coleridge .........One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective. What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves - W. H. Auden ...........Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash - Leonard Cohen .........There is a pleasure in poetic pains which only poets know - William Cowper .........Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood -T. S. Eliot ..........Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason - Novalis...........He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life - George Sand .........A poem is never finished, only abandoned - Paul Valery ........A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland - Kahlil Gibran.............Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance - John Keats..........To be a poet is a condition, not a profession - Robert Frost........A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself - E. M. Forster.........Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo - Don Marquis...........Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things - T. S. Eliot ..........You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick. You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in - Dylan Thomas .........Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words - Paul Engle......... There is not a joy the world can give like that it takes away! Lord Byron


La victoire de Guernica

Paul Eluard

Beau monde des masures
De la nuit et des champs

Visages bons au feu visages bons au fond
Aux refus à la nuit aux injures aux coups

Visages bons à tout
Voici le vide qui vous fixe
Votre mort va servir d'exemple

La mort coeur renversé

Ils vous ont fait payer la pain
Le ciel la terre l'eau le sommeil
Et la misère
De votre vie

Ils persévèrent ils exagèrent ils ne sont pas de notre monde

Hommes pour qui ce trésor fut chanté
Hommes pour qui ce trésor fut gâché

Hommes réels pour qui le désespoir
Alimente le feu dévorant de l'espoir
Ouvrons ensemble le dernier bourgeon de l'avenir

Paul Eluard

" Cours naturel "- 1938 -



انتصار غرنيكا

شعر : بول إيلوار - فرنسا

ترجمة : محمد سعيد الريحاني - المغرب

روعة عالم من أكواخ
وليل وحقول


وجوه تحترق وجوه
تتراجع إلى البعيد

رفضا لليل رفضا للإهانة رفضا للرصاص  


وجوه صالحة لكل شيء
ها هو الفراغ
لكن موتكم سيبقى مثلا أعلى للجميع


الموت قَلبٌ مَقْلُوبٌ


دُفعْتُمْ ثَمَنَ خُبْز
وسماء وأرض وماء ونوم


أصروا وأفرطوا  فتبرأت منهم الإنسانية



أيها الرجال لمَنْ  وُهبَ هذا الكنز
أيها الرجال بأي حق أُتْلفَ هذا الكنز


أيها الرجال الحقيقيون يا من يغذي اليأس
نيرانَ الأمَل في صُدورهم
لنفتح سوية آخر البراعم الغدوية


الشاعر الفرنسي بول إيلوار ، سنة 1938، في ذكرى حَرْق مدينة "غرنيكا" الإسبانية بنيران القوات النازية المتحالفة مع الجنرال فرانسيسكو فرانكو، عن ديوانه  " Cours naturel "

ملحوظة هامة:  النص كُتبَ في نسخته الفرنسية الأصلية   بلا علامات ترقيم وبلا وزن شعري لعكس غضب الشاعر والخراب الذي حل ب"غرنيكا"، وهو ما يجعل النص يقف متجاورا مع لوحة الفنان التشكيلي الإسباني بابلو بيكاسو الشهيرة والمرسومة أيضا بباريس سنة 1937 والتي تحمل ذات العنوان "غرنيكا".


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