At Friday Music we are given a beautiful Québecois song for our inspiration. The song is even more special since it is by a Québecois singer/songwriter, Alex Nevsky [formerly Alexandre Parent) from Granby, Québec which is in the Eastern Townships where I was raised. I decided to write a haibun concluded with a tanka. I have not added the English translation as the literary translation does not do the song justice.
Jeter un sort, par Alex Nevsky Cœur de pirate
Lyrics for Jeter un sort by Alex Nevsky feat. Cœur de pirate
Qu’importe le temps et les promesses
Si longtemps ce n’est que maladresse
Et j’attends de toujours ton regard
Qui se pose sur mes lèvres en retard
Qu’importe le bleu de l’océan
C’est le vide que je vois finalement
Pris ici et rien pour s’arracher
De nos coeurs si intimement liés
J’ai jeté un sort
Sans trop savoir ce qu’on deviendrait
Corps à corps on disparait
À travers l’aurevoir
Et j’ai tout donné à cette cause
Cette fois c’est assez
Laisse nous au moins partir
Laisse nous au moins vivre
Laisse moi au moins vivre
Qu’importe la beauté du pardon
Aucun n’oiseaux ne mourra si nous partons
Chacun pour soi vers les jours malheureux
Tout nous déçois, mais veux-ton vraiment mieux
Est-ce nécessaire de regarder
Loin devant soi
Pour comprendre qu’on c’est égaré
L’horizon n’est peut-être plus dans tes yeux
De précision, mais plus jamais de feux
J’ai jeté un sort
Sans trop savoir ce qu’on deviendrait
Corps à corps on disparait
À travers l’aurevoir
Et j’ai tout donné à cette cause
Cette fois c’est assez
Laisse nous au moins partir
Laisse nous au moins vivre
J’ai jeté un sort
Sans trop savoir ce qu’on deviendrait
Corps à corps on disparait
À travers l’aurevoir
Et j’ai tout donné à cette cause
Cette fois c’est assez
Laisse nous au moins partir
Laisse nous au moins vivre
Laisse moi amusions vivre
Sitting in the café, she lifted her head and rubbed her neck from writing for so long. Her eyes turned towards the fireplace. A young man was reading, with his head leaning against the ear of the armchair. She could vaguely read the title…Bonheur d’O… She wondered if this was fate…this handsome man reading one of her favourite love stories by Gabrielle Roy, Bonheur d’Occasion.
She lowered her head slightly to return to her writing and only slightly tilted her head…she was fascinated to see a man read such a romantic book and now she was curious. Was he a professor or a grad student?
Then he turned towards her direction…
plunged in liquid blues swimming in transcendence breath held a moment time’s at a standstill bliss multiplied by two
Sipping ice tea
with a zest of lemon
sweetened lightly
with a drop of honey
softens the tangy
taste on her tongue
Some things need only
lips brushed softly
tasting the sweetness
of A baby’s bum
Dollops dropped
of boiling maple syrup
on a bed of snow
turning nanas
into a little girl
laughing, dancing
fancy-free
drawing her into
her happy place
coffee too bitter
to an innocent child
still needing time
to taste the world
with sweet melons
tart apples and chewy
fiddleheads
now aging in time
to appreciate and slurp
roasted java to her taste
sending aromatic
pleasure to her delicate nose!
a broken heart
or a wounded soul
certainly do taste
like sour grapes
hidden in sorrow
mended with care
tea sweetened by the hand
of a loyalSipping ice tea
with a zest of lemon
Sweetened lightly
with a drop of honey
Softens the tangy
Taste on her tongue
Some things need only
Lips brushed softly
Tasting the sweetness
Of A baby’s bum
Dollops dropped
Of boiling maple syrup
On a bed of snow
Turning nanas
Into a little girl
Laughing, dancing
Fancifree
Drawing her into
Her happy place
Bitterness of coffee
To an innocent child
Still needing time
To taste the world
And then be enticed
By aromas of Sipping ice tea
with a zest of lemon
Sweetened lightly
with a drop of honey
Softens the tangy
Taste on her tongue
Some things need only
Lips brushed softly
Tasting the sweetness
Of A baby’s bum
Dollops dropped
Of boiling maple syrup
On a bed of snow
Turning nanas
Into a little girl
Laughing, dancing
Fancifree
Drawing her into
Her happy place
Bitterness of coffee
To an innocent child
Still needing time
To taste the world
And then be enticed
By aromas of loyal friend
yet late at night
alone in her bed
his taste still lingers
on wanting lips.
sweet smelling rose silken petals softens the heart
April showers seem so adorable in children’s books with poems and chants that rhyme as children skip to school. In the city, it means cleansing of streets, playgrounds and lawns. However, some may look at their back yard with dismay
It was midnight when she walked home, taking the shortcut behind the counselling centre. A cool soft mist felt good on her face. No moon to light up her path, she tread carefully, stumbling over tree trumps and fallen branches from the long winter that had finally passed. As she reached the street, she noticed the street lights were out and blackness shielded her way.
Suddenly, there was loud crack in the sky. She counted “One thousand and one, one thous…” the sky lit up telling her the lightening was fairly close. Grandmaman always said, “Si tu es en vélo ou tu as des semelles en caoutchouc l’éclair ne te touchera pas.” Well, now, who could argue with Grandmaman! For once she was happy to be wearing her Hunter boots she had just purchased. It was a frivolous expense but the money was a present for her milestone birthday.
Now the rain began to pour and she knew running would not stop her from getting soaked, so she walked at a slow pace, lifting her face to the sky letting the raindrops cleanse her weariness.
treading through darkness
allowing thoughts to simmer
draped in its safety
Faces of youths flashed in her mind, their voices expressing their pain. Sadness, confusion and hopelessness proclaiming their needs turning into a cacophony until all she could decipher was a steady rumble.
Another crack erupted from the sky and turned into an explosion of lights. Just as she was entering the Métro, she sighed…who knew?
nature takes its course
granting ever so wisely,
what we need
Like thousands of empty shells until you find a pearl of enlightenment, darkness can be your friend.
Tournesol dans un Jardin 