Will and Testament
For Alain Bosquet
To the child I did not have
but which I received from a man
seventy-seven times and more, to the good child
whose breath and face I formed
seventy-seven times, in a belly like mine,
by nights red with the sun,
by crystalline days of northern dawns,
to the child whose secret initials
I carry inside me, along with your name, Yahweh,
a child conceived, but still unfinished,
that they make in me, that I make, each time I love,
that is undone inside me to give a poem,
to the child that will not come
to close my eyes, to choose the winding-sheet,
to walk behind my weight of bones, of ashes,
to watch me descend into the grave,
to this child I bequeath before God, before
men and my dog, before the living day
(which is only because I am and which will die
as I die) I bequeath, as much as can be,
as much as can be used instead of, in place of
me, its mother and father in one being,
I bequeath all my fleshly and spiritual goods,
of time still counted and of illusory space:
the corner of the sky I have stared at in vain,
the acre of land where I wore out my shoes,
the four walls inside which I stayed,
the six partitions that were their twins;
the money that ran through my fingers--
for the pleasure I had in spreading it--
the false knowledge that they thought they passed me
-- for the happiness of unlearning it just as soon--;
the days I passed that I did not live,
the days lived where I passed nearby,
the mortal time I survived,
the hour, eternal and yet erased;
the love thrown away whose price I did not know,
the love given to those who could not take it,
the love offered that I took back right away,
the love lost that you can still see waiting outside.
To the child that I did not have,
whom I have all the same, formed
of my seed, conceived in my flesh,
whose existence is perfected in every embrace,
to this child I bequeath for the better but especially for
the worst, what the day has lent me:
the I which I use on credit
at an interest I can't afford,
whose face and sex I could not choose
(you have to take what you get):
a hollow brain in a full head,
a body too soft on bones too strong,
blood too lively for a short breath,
a heart too gentle for this furious blood,
feet that have raised nothing but dust,
arms surprised to have embraced the wind,
knees trapped by prayers,
hands staying empty as before;
eyes closed on a side of things,
-- that half that we all are missing--,
eyes open under their closed pupils
and in the dark seeing more than they should.
To the child I did not have
I bequeath lastly, so that it will pay
attention, so that it will remember
through stubbornness, when the hem
of my passage is ripped out of the ancient fabric:
the fifteen things that I never could do:
bow my head before those greater than I,
walk on those lower, point a finger,
shout with the crowd, or else be silent,
recognize the Black among the Whites,
choose the ten just men, name a guilty party,
find that suitable attitude,
read someone besides myself in the mirrors,
conjugate love in several persons,
resist temptation, wound on purpose,
stay indecisive, say "Nuts"
instead of "Shit," which is more French.
--Liliane Wouters (1930-). This poem is from the book Poèmes à dire, ed. by Zéno Bianu, Gallimard (2002). Here is an excerpt from the beginning.
Testament
Pour Alain Bosquet
À l'enfant que je n'ai pas eu
mais que d'un homme je reçus
septante fois sept fois et davantage, à l'enfant sage
dont je formai le souffle et le visage
sept fois septante fois, dans un ventre pareil
au mien, par des nuits rouges de soleil,
par des jours cristallins d'aurore boréale,
à l'enfant dont je porte en moi les initiales
secrètes, ainsi que ton nom, Yahvé,
enfant conçu, toujours inachevé,
qu'on me fait, que je fais, à chaque fois que j'aime,
qui se défait en moi pour donner un poème,
à l'enfant qui ne viendra pas
clore mes yeux, choisir l'ultime drap,
marcher derrière mon poids d'os, de cendres,
me regarder dans la fosse descendre,
à cet enfant je lègue devant Dieu, devant
les hommes et mon chien, devant le jour vivant
(qui n'est que parce que je suis et qui mourra
comme je meurs) je lègue, pour autant qu'on pourra,
pour autant qu'il en fasse usage en lieu et place
de moi, ses père et mère en un seul être pris,
je lègue tous mes biens de chair, d'esprit,
de temps toujours compté et d'illusoire espace....
