Note from the editor: I have chosen here to include the poem in its original language, French, as well as in its translated English form, since I know that our main audience is English speaking. However to fully grasp the rhythm, the wistfulness, and the longing of the words, it is essential to experience its recitation in its intended form. Whether you know French or not, I urge you to try it out, to exercise your tongue and feel the words, to immerse yourself in the poem. If you'd really like, insert it into an online translator and have it read aloud to you. I promise that you will glean something novel from it, and your mind will thank you for the refreshingly new experience that the dichotomies between languages can provide.English translation:
Imaginary anemoia,
A dream flying away into the distant ether
If dreaming turns you immortal, in your presence I remain unaltered.
To make this chimera eternal I would face Lucifer
Creative spark animating my life
Incandescent moon tearing up my night.
An idyl or an ideal, perhaps a fantasy meant to be fatal.
When I am with you, I feel like myself, as if I weren’t wearing a mask…
The feeling that in another life we could have been possible -
But you are the sun and I the rain.
If this life repeats itself indefinitely
I would be sorry I spent all this time
without having ever dared to tell you
Honey, with you, my heart blossoms with
This tender, gentle hope.
Hidden deep inside my chest,
A crimson carnation taking root,
Here is my locked-away heart
And here is the key.
Original French:
Lettre à Honey,
Anémoia imaginaire,
Un songe qui s'envole vers ce lointain éther,
Si rêver rend immortel, en ta présence je demeure immuable;
Pour que cette chimère soit éternelle, j'irais jusqu'à à affronter le diable.
Flamme créatrice qui anime ma vie,
Lune incandescente qui déchire la nuit,
Une idylle ou un idéal ?
Peut être un phantasme qui se veut fatale.
Quand je suis avec toi je me sens moi,
Comme si de masque je ne portais pas...
L'impression que tout serait possible dans une autre vie,
Mais tu es le soleil et je suis la pluie ,
Si cette vie recommence infiniment je m'en voudrais d'avoir passé tout ce temps sans même n'avoir osé,
Prendre mon courage pour t'en parler
Honey, tu fais fleurir en mon cœur
Cet espoir d'une extrême douceur,
Un oeillet rouge prenant racine,
Caché au fond de ma poitrine.
Voici mon coeur scellé,
Et maintenant en voici la clé.
About the author:
Tristan was born in Nancy along with a twin brother, Ethan. He stopped studying after high school because he felt it did not suit him, and resumed business and thereafter commercial management before reorienting himself into design and fashion design. This gave him new notions that allowed him to better savour the literature with which he had always had a little trouble. He then decided to resume reading the classics that he had stopped doing in high school, and to dig into poems in more detail. This is the first one he decided to write; though it's a little rough, he finds that this is what gives it charm.
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