Poetry declares boldly what we ourselves do not have the courage to whisper in our most lowered voices. It removes from the equation timidity and the innate desire to defend our shortcomings, reducing all of our world- or the aspects being explored- to its most simplistic and ungarbled. Anyone who really knows me can testify that writing inextricably intertwines with who I am. In scribed words I capture the clarity that otherwise darts mischievously just outside of my periphery. A question I wrestled with upon my arrival regarded the wisdom in continuing to dispense large sums of time writing in English, time that would be subtracted from the French elements of my life, and potentially hamper my progression with the language. However, the idea of abandoning the companion that has always shared with me gleaned insight from our shared past and even scoped the road ahead to give counsel shook me to the core. In thinking about how to further incorporate writing into my newest goal, French fluency, I settled upon slam poetry*.
Having been here for almost two months, I have made strides in language that, as modestly as possible, leave me awed. I can recall the first few days, couple weeks even, when comprehension of an everyday conversation on the street was out of the question. My capacity to understand was confined to statements directed specifically towards me, and more often than not, coming from someone who knew me as a foreigner and had the patience to speak especially slowly and perhaps throw in a few hand gestures. Now, I can speak French at the same speed I would in English (on a good day). Those meddlesome verb conjugations no longer leave me crippled, and most rewardingly, I can engage with the general population.
That leaves still the issues of gender agreement when constructing sentences as well as discovering how to write down what I wish to say with the correct orthography and grammar. I wrote a poem in French. Upon presenting it to my literature professor for guidance, I learned it was littered with errors. However, in making the necessary corrections, I became that much closer to understanding how to communicate most effectively in French. When I am able to write a poem without any errors at all, I will know that I am my language mastery has arrived at an acceptable level and will join in on a slam poetry session. For those of you who are curious, here is my poem:
ORIGINAL: TRANSLATED:
Malheureusement Sadly
L’axiome est resté dans mes pensées au moment de depart This axiom remained in my thoughts upon departure
La mer n’avait pas pitié de moi The sea had no pity for me
Et lors de mon débarquement And during my landing
La vérité m’a trouvée The truth found me
Dans le lieu où je cachais le secret In the place where I was hiding the secret
Qui est devenu évident Which had since become evident
Maintenant sans choix, je dois admettre Now without a choice, I must admit
Sur cette planète ronde That on this round planet
Chaque événement réapparaît Every happening reappears
Et applique le conseil qu’ il a hérité de ses prédécesseur And applies the counsel that it inherited from its predecessors
Quand j’ai couru When I ran
Le conte m’a assuré, j’arriverai au lieu présélectionné The story assured me that I would arrive at the prechosen place
Car le livre d’histoires est savant et plus que Because the story book has learned more than
Je ne peux l’espérer I could ever hope to know
Mais moi, j’espère avoir ses connaissances But me, I hope to have its knowledge
Et mēme les dépasser And even to surpass it
Malheureusement Sadly
L’axiome est resté dans mes pensées au moment de depart This axiom remained in my thoughts upon departure
La mer n’avait pas pitié de moi The sea had no pity for me
Et lors de mon débarquement And during my landing
La vérité m’a trouvée The truth found me
Dans le lieu où je cachais le secret In the place where I was hiding the secret
Qui est devenu évident Which had since become evident
Maintenant sans choix, je dois admettre Now without a choice, I must admit
Sur cette planète ronde That on this round planet
Chaque événement réapparaît Every happening reappears
Et applique le conseil qu’ il a hérité de ses prédécesseur And applies the counsel that it inherited from its predecessors
Quand j’ai couru When I ran
Le conte m’a assuré, j’arriverai au lieu présélectionné The story assured me that I would arrive at the prechosen place
Car le livre d’histoires est savant et plus que Because the story book has learned more than
Je ne peux l’espérer I could ever hope to know
Mais moi, j’espère avoir ses connaissances But me, I hope to have its knowledge
Et mēme les dépasser And even to surpass it
I wanted to share also some of the street art that I’ve come across the past couple of weeks exploring Rennes. The majority of these photos come from my running path, but a few of them also are from the town commercial center, Ste Anne and some surrounding areas. Graffiti always has held a special appeal to me. Similarly to poetry it can depict very concisely someone’s perceptions and feelings. I had the opportunity to talk briefly to a street artist. He wanted to speak to me in English, but here he is.
And the pictures I promised:
slam poetry ** a competition at which poets read or recite original work; these performances are then judged on a numeric scale by previously selected members of the audience (from the mouth of Wikipedia)