Poetry by Dominique Hecq. Translated from the original French.

Dominique Hecq grew up in the French-speaking part of Belgium. She now lives in Melbourne. Her works include a novel, three books of short stories and nine collections of poetry. Kaosmos (2020) is fresh off the press. Hecq is a recipient of The International Poetry Translation and Research Centre 2018 International Best Poets Prize.

PISTES DE REVE (extrait)

La terre éclabousse en poudre de sang.

Je passe à travers sa chair.
>

Le jour se trouble d’une brume de fumée.

Au bord de la route, dépouilles de wallabies.
>

L’enfant me presse de questions.

Lovée dans notre langue, je nomme.

>

Nous parcourons le Néolithique

Jusque maintenant, Temps du Rêve.
>

L’enfant me presse de questions.

Lovée dans notre langue, j’approprie.

>

Nous hoquetons comme des plongeuses.

En apnée hors des sentiers marins.

>

La mer, index planétaire vidée de soi.

Littoral, estran, lit pierreux à ciel ouvert.

>

L’enfant me presse de questions.

Lovée dans notre langue, j’invente.
>

La montagne dégage une terre assoiffée.

Roche qui ne demande qu’à resplendir de vert de gris.
>

Falaises rouillées imprégnées de silence.

Pistes. Mirages. Voix. Songlines. Ganire.
>

On traverse le paysage.

On avale tout trop vite.
>

Les yeux dans les trous les terriers les fentes les crevasses

la rivière le ciel qui éclate de soleil de lune d’étoiles
>

Le ciel qui éclate de secrets éventés.

Surtout ne rien dire.
>

Ça hante. Ça honte

au futur antérieur dégluti.
<

Sons de nulle part

lourds de non-dits.

>

J’avale ma langue

le flou les autres voies loin de l’ère de sables liquides 
>

et mouvants de sang blanc soleil

rouge flou noir agglutiné.

>

J’avale ma langue

le flou les autres voix et tous mes repères sautent.

>

La montagne dégage une terre assoifante—

roche qui ne resplendit que  de vert de gris.

<

Falaises rouillées imprégnées de silence.

Pistes, mirages. Voix. Songlines. Ganire.

>

>

The earth splashes out blood powder.

I go through its flesh.

>

The day clouds with smoke haze.

On the side of the road, wallaby remains.
>

The child plies me with questions.

Snug in our language, I name.

>

We roam through the Neolithic.

Up to now, Dreamtime.
>

The child plies me with questions.

Snug in our language, I appropriate.

>

We hiccup like divers.

Fighting for breath beyond sea trails.

>

The sea, planetary index emptied of itself.

Littoral, tide swipe, open air gravelly bed.

>

The child plies me with questions.

Snug in our language, I invent.

>

The mountain releases a thirsty earth.

Rock craving grey green luxuriance.

<

Rusty cliffs permeated with silence.

Tracks. Mirages. Voices. Songlines. Ganire.
>

We pass through the landscape.

We swallow everything too quickly.

>

Eyes in holes burrows cracks crevices

the river the sky exploding with sun moon stars

>

The sky exploding with busted secrets.

Above all keep quiet.
>

It haunts. It hots

cheeks in the future interior.

>

Sounds from nowhere

heavy with unsaid.

>
I swallow my tongue

the blur the other lines far away from the era of liquid
>>

sands quick with white blood red

sun clotted black blur.
>

I swallow my tongue

the blur the other voices and all my landmarks smash.
>

The mountain releases a thirsting earth—

rock craving grey green luxuriance.
>

Rusty cliffs permeated with silence.

Tracks. Mirages. Voices. Songlines. Ganire.

.

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