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jeudi 31 janvier 2013

TOUT S'ACHETE, TOUT SE VEND - EVERYTHING IS BOUGHT, EVERYTHING IS SOLD





                                                       MA TETE MISE A PRIX



                                                     Un jour m'est venu à l'esprit

                                                     Le désir de prendre un crédit.

                                                      ...........Pourquoi ?............

                                                      Tout simplement pour moi !

                                                     11 mois de congé sabbatique,

                                                Pour me poser et me retirer du trafic ;

                                                     M'ouvrir à d'autres horizons.

                                                    De l'idée, j'ai accepté le fond,

                                                 Et maintenant, j'y mets les formes.

                                                Mais qu'il m'est difficile de patienter

                                              Quand des ailes me poussent aux pieds.

                                                 Pas le temps d'attendre la retraite,

                                              C'est ici et maintenant que je veux être !





MY TRANSLATION : EVERYTHING IS BOUGHT, EVERYTHING IS SOLD

 


                                              MY HEAD SETTING A PRICE


                                                    A day came to my mind

                                                   The desire to take credit.

                                                   ............ Why? ............

                                                      Quite simply for me!

                                                    11 months of sabbatical


                                      To reflect and to withdraw from the traffic;

                                                Open myself to new horizons.

                                       From the idea, I accepted the substance,

                                                  And now I put the forms.

                                                 But it is hard for me to wait

                                              When I grow wings on my feet.

                                              No time to wait for retirement,

                                          It is here and now that I want to be!


mardi 29 janvier 2013

L'HOMME QUI CHERCHAIT SA VOIE - THE MAN WHO SEARCHING HIS WAY



                                                UN HOMME ORDINAIRE

                                           Au royaume de la toute puissance,

                                        Il était un monarque sans connaissance

                                          De ses besoins et de ceux des autres.

                                          Vivant le stress de la concupiscence,

                                                A l'image de ses apôtres :

                                             Chacun se prêtant allégeance !

                                             Point de répit pour ce suzerain

                                                Dont la cassette et le trésor,

                                                Malgré ses multiples efforts,

                                    Se vidaient inéluctablement, dès le lendemain.

                                              Son peuple, fidèle et courageux,

                                             Oeuvrait pour le rendre heureux :

                                          Travaillant d'arrache pied pour aider

                                              Sa majesté à ne pas déprimer.

                                           Il passait le plus clair de son temps

                                               A dépenser " le " bon argent

                                             Alors que la véritable richesse

                                          Se trouvait à l'intérieur de son altesse.

                                              Il voulait être un roi exemplaire

                                             Comme l'aurait souhaité son père,

                                             Mais son vrai désir était ailleurs  :

                                                   Il rêvait d'être chanteur.

                                                      Un micro à la main,

                                                   Il ne pensait plus à rien....

                                             Il fût enlevé par un radio crochet

                                                   Et disparut à tout jamais

                                             Emporté par la vague du succès

                                            Au plus grand plaisir de ses sujets.




                                                  AN ORDINARY MAN

                                            In the kingdom of omnipotence,

                                           It was a king without knowledge

                                          Of his needs and those of others.

                                         Living the stress of concupiscence,

                                                      Like his apostles:

                                            Everyone swearing allegiance!

                                                No rest for the suzerain

                                            Whose cassette and treasure,

                                              Despite repeated efforts,

                                          Emptied inevitably the next day.

 
                                       His people, faithful and courageous,

                                        Was working to make him happy:

                                              Working flat out to help

                                          His Majesty not to be depressed.


                                             He spent most of his time

                                           A expend ""the" good money

                                               While the true wealth

                                            Was inside his Highness.

                                       He wanted to be an exemplary king

                                                As his father wished,

                                        But his real desire was elsewhere:


                                           He dreamed of being a singer.

                                                A microphone in hand,

                                         He no longer thought of anything ....

                                         He was kidnapped by a talent show

                                               And disappeared forever

                                        Carried away by the wave of success

                                        For the great pleasure of his subjects.


jeudi 24 janvier 2013

LA SEMAINE DE TOUS LES LUNDIS - THE WEEK OF EVERY MONDAY



                                         
                                                    A LA PETITE SEMAINE


                                                  Déjà au crépuscule du dimanche,

                                                  Le travail nous tire par la manche.

                                                  "Lundi" : le mot semble détestable.

                                                  Il est pourtant composé de lettres admirables,

                                                  Nous pourrions le vivre ainsi :

                                                          L  =    Liberté

                                                          U  =   Universelle

                                                          N  =   Naturellement

                                                          D  =   Dédié

                                                          I  =   à l'Individu

                                                  Mais notre vérité est celle -ci  :

                                                          L  =   L'homme

                                                          U  =   Urbanisé

                                                          N  =   Nourriture

                                                          D  =   De

                                                          I  =   l'Industrie

                                                  Quel dommage d'utiliser notre vocabulaire

                                                            A usiner de si tristes affaires !


 Ce poème a été inclus dans le "hobo-lullaby" blog "http://hobo-lullaby.over-blog.net
  et j'en suis ravie , il ya un lien dans mes blogs préférés aussi
"



 

MY TRANSLATION

                                                     

                                                    AT THE LITTLE WEEK 

 

                                                 Already at twilight Sunday,

                                                 The work takes us by the sleeve.

                                                 "Monday": the word seems hateful.

                                                 Yet it is composed of admirable letters,

                                                 We could live it like this :


                                                          M =  Marvelous

                                                          O =  Offering

                                                          N =  Naturally

                                                          D =  Dedicated

                                                          A =  At


                                                          Y =  You

                                                  But our truth is this:

                                                          M =  Man

                                                          O =  Once again

                                                          N =  Nutriment

                                                          D =  Delegated

                                                          A =  At


                                                          Y =  the Yield 

                                                  What a shame to use our vocabulary

                                                    In machining business so sad!




In French : first "monday" = Freedom Universal Naturally Dedicated the Individual
                 second......     = Man Urbanized Food Of Industry



This poem was included in the "hobo-lullaby" blog "http://hobo-lullaby.over-blog.net "
 and I am delighted there is a link to my favorite blogs also

mardi 22 janvier 2013

UNE VIE DE CHIEN - A LIFE DOG




                                                         FILOU


                                                    Epagneul breton

                                                    Tel est mon nom.

                                              Enfin pour les cynophiles,

                                        Car dans la vie, on m'appelle Phyl.

                                            Je suis la crème des chiens,

                                        Toujours à la recherche d'un calin.

                                               Bien sûr, de loin en loin,

                                        Je me conduis comme un vaurien :

                                              Seul ou....... accompagné

                                      J'aime par-dessus  tout me promener.

                                       Tout me complaît : mer, campagne,

                                           Ville, forêt, haute montagne ;

                                             Rien ne m'arrête jamais :

                                            Je suis un  dur, un tatoué,

                                          Mais cessons là ces palabres,

                                   Puisqu'à cette heure mon ventre se délabre ;

                                     Il n'y a de gamelle pleine qui ne se vide

                                         Pour quelqu'un d'aussi intrépide.

                                              

MY TRANSLATION

                                                        FILOU

                                                  Brittany spaniel

                                                 That is my name.

                                             Finally for the dog lovers,

                                       Because in life, they call me Phyl.

                                            I'm the cream of the dogs,

                                            Always looking for a hug.

   
                                           Of course, here and there,

                                            I behave like a scoundrel:

                                            Alone......or accompanied 


                                              I like above all to walk.

                                       All delights me : sea, countryside,

                                             City, forest, mountain ;


                                           Nothing will ever stop me

                                              I'm a tough, tattooed,

                                         But stop here these palavers

                                Because at that time my belly is in despair ;

                              
There is no full bowl that can not be empty    
                                       
                                           For someone as fearless.



vendredi 18 janvier 2013

TAGUER LES MURAILLES - TAG THE WALLS


                                                      A L'APPROCHE.....

                                         Nous quittons notre douce campagne.

                                  Pendant quelques arrêts, elle nous accompagne.

                                  Et  puis, au fur et à mesure, disparaît la nature

                                  ......lorsque le  béton se met en structures.........

                                    L'urbanisme devient rapidement oppressant.

                                    Et, j'imagine qu'il n'y a pas plus alléchant,

                                        Que de "taguer" toute cette grisaille :

                                 Les mots jaillissent comme autant de mitrailles.

                                  Le train arrive aux abords de la grande cité,

                               Nous avançons dans un couloir aux murs dessinés,

                                  C'est le tableau noir des nouveaux gavroches.

                              Ils attendent la nuit, sortent leurs lampes de poche,

                                         Et là, avec le sang de leurs entrailles,

                                     Ils s'inscrivent sur ces nouvelles murailles.

                                         Grand show ou musée des horreurs ?

                                    Je préfère y voir les cris d'une grande peur :

                                         Angoisse de ne pas pouvoir devenir ?

                                       ....... Ou de ne pas avoir d'avenir......... !

                                          Enfin, je vous laisse seuls deviner :









                                       Ces messages qui nous sont destinés.....


 MY TRANSLATION


                                                   AT THE APPROACH .....
 

                                             We leave our sweet campaign.

                                          For a few stops,
it accompanies us.
 
                                     And then, progressively disappears nature

                                     ...... when concrete gets structures .........

                                   The urban planning quickly becomes oppressive.

                                        And I imagine there is no more tempting,


                                            That "tagging" all this gloom:

                                          Words gush as much grapeshot.

                              The train arrives at the surrounding of the great city,

                                We are moving in a corridor with walls drawn

 
                                  This is the new blackboard of street urchins.


                                    They wait the night, light their flashlights,

                                     And then, with the blood of their bowels

                                  They impress themselves on these new walls.

                                        Big show or museum of horrors?

                                    I prefer to see the shouts of a great fear:

                                     Anguish of not being able to become?

                                         ....... Or have no future ......... !

                                          Finally, I leave you alone guess :


 







                                        These messages which are for us .....

lundi 14 janvier 2013

LE TRAIN DE REFORME DE LA SNCF - CURRENT REFORMS OF THE SNCF (*)



                                                                         SNCF, JE T'AIME


                                                                      Le train, le tien, le mien,

                                                                    Celui qui m'attend au quai

                                                           Ou celui que je scrute d'un oeil inquiet.

                                                                Pour ma part, il vient d'Amiens.

                                                             Chaque jour est un nouveau combat :

                                                             Passera...................ne passera pas ?

                                                               C'est un sujet qui délie les langues.

                                                       Malgré tout, cette fièvre nous rend exsangue,

                                                           Peu ou pas d'informations de la SNCF

                                                                Laissés pour compte....en bref !

                                                               Retards, suppressions de trains,

                                                         Pannes de matériel : voilà notre quotidien.

                                                            Que nous déplaçons-nous en TGV ?

                                                                30 l'état vient d'en commander,

                                                   Entrons dans la danse et tout le monde en vacances !

                                                         Puisque les courtes et moyennes distances

                                                                 Ne sont plus d'un bon rapport,

                                                                Inutile de penser à notre confort.

                                                                   Contre les lois de la finance,

                                                                  Nous n'avons aucune chance.

                                                                Il faudra certainement s'habituer

                                                                 A se rendre au travail à pieds !



MY TRANSLATION




                                                                      SNCF, I LOVE YOU
 

                                                                     The train, yours, mine,

                                                          The one is waiting for me at the platform

                                                        Or the one I scrutinize with an anxious eye.

                                                             For my part, it comes from Amiens.

                                                                  Every day is a new struggle

                                                            Will arrive................. will not pass?

                                                            This is a topic that loosens tongues.


                                                      Nevertheless, the fever makes us bloodless

                                                          Little or no information from the SNCF

                                                            We are left abandoned...... in short!

                                                                  Delays, train cancellations,

                                                          Equipment failures: that is our daily lives.

                                                             What do we move by TGV train ?

                                                                30, the state has just to order


                                                          Enter the dance and everyone on vacation!

                                                             Since the short and medium distances

                                                                   Are no longer earning money

                                                            Needless to think about our comfort.

                                                                   Against the laws of finance,

                                                                         We have no chance.

                                                                     It will certainly get used

                                                                     To go to work on foot!




(*) S.N.C.F.:  National Society of French Railway


jeudi 10 janvier 2013

LE PORTABLE COLLECTIF - THE COLLECTIVE MOBILE




                 
                                                          LE COLLECTIF


                                                  Soudain une sonnerie retentit

                                                Le wagon se remplit de ce bruit

                                               Quelqu'un répond à son portable

                                             Commence un échange mémorable.

                                          Malheureusement, de cette conversation

                                               Nous n'entendons qu'une version

                                           Quel est-il le problème au bout du fil ?

                                            Toutes les oreilles tentent d'en capter

                                             Le moindre son.......... le sens caché

                                            Car tout ce tapage nous rend fébriles.

                                            Puissions-nous, ensemble, le résoudre

                                                    Avant que d'en découdre !


MY TRANSLATION


                                                    THE COLLECTIVE

                                                    Suddenly a bell rings

                                           The wagon is filled with the noise

                                             Someone answering his mobile

                                             Begins a memorable exchange.

                                          Unfortunately, of this conversation

                                               We hear only one version


                                            What is the problem in the phone?

                                                All ears are trying to capture

                                   The slightest sound .......... the hidden meaning

                                          Because all this row makes us excited.

                                                  May we together solve it

                                                     Before to do battle !