XIV CHIFFRES ET LETTRES

Le corbeau ressuscitera de la cendre
Lorsque le mot aura regagné la mer.
Pour éveiller la science de Cassandre
Plonge aux sommeils, devient le rubis, le Vert

Lion debout et triomphant qui domine 
Sa terreur de retourner larve et chaos,
Car ce chant perdu règne au fond de la mine
Où le dormeur passe le seuil du naos,

(Il connaîtra l'omnipuissance du nombre,
L'équerre, le cercle, le diamant sûr
Qui ne savent origine ni décombre,
Plus âgés que les siècles et l'azur-

Chant du vieux pays sans gardes ni tourelles,
Perdu- germe ma cantilène - perdu
Sur ces confins où s'abolissent nos ailes,
Où se lèvent des mots jamais entendus-

Et vous, stricts et glacés, chiffres aux rouages
Inflexibles, que nul rêve n'a rouillés,
Nul appel touchés, ni caresses, ni rages
Se fracassant sur vos ergo verrouillés)

Où la mer s'étend figeant bitumes, laves,
Mais sous la mer bat un appel sans répit
Obsédant, et le veilleur qui pense l'avoir
Le premier surpris ignore qu'il n'y

A qu'un veilleur éternel et qui rêve
Tous les rêves, toutes les amours, tous les
Cauchemars - et qui disparaît quand se lève
Le lutteur par sa pesanteur désailé.

Michel Galiana (c) 1991

XIV NUMBERS AND LETTERS

The Raven is due from ashes to rise again
When the dwelling of Word has turned to be marine
If you want to awake Cassandra's skill and ken,
You must dive into sleep, be the ruby, the Green

Rampant Lion who has triumphant overcome
His terror of being turned back to larve and chaos.
For a lost song is heard at the mine's bottom
Where, asleep, you cross the threshold of the naos,

(You shall know the omnipotence of the number,
The square and the circle and the sure diamond
That have no outset, whose decay occurs never,
Older than centuries and deep blue firmament-

Song of the old country without guards and turrets
Lost - alas, woe is me - lost on this borderland
Wither our tired wings give up carrying us
Where words are arising that we don't understand,

And you, stiff and frozen figures with your clockworks
That no dream ever has conceived or stained with rust,
No entreaty moved you, no caress and no wrath:
By your bolted chains of reasoning they were crushed)

Wherever the main spreads, freezing asphalt, lavas.
But under the sea beats a call obsessively, 
Without respite and the lookout who means he was
The first to perceive it ignores that there may be

Only one eternal Lookout who is dreamer
Of all dreams, of all loves, of all nightmares also,
- And he will some day yield to another wrestler
Who's bereft by his weight of wings of long ago.