The sublime simplicity of reality
Three poems by Pierre Reverdy (1889–1960), translated by William Vallières
Discordia does not, it turns out, hate everything. Every other week, we share a piece of work from an artist who has earned our respect and affection. Today we pay tribute to the great French poet Pierre Reverdy (1889–1960), translated by returning favourite William Vallières.
Taste of the Real
He steps on one foot, not knowing where to place the other. At the bend in the road, wind kicks up dust and his mouth opens, taking up all the space. He begins to run, hoping to take off at any moment, but the curb is wet, and his flapping arms can’t help him. In his fall he understands he is heavier than his dreams. Since then, he adores the weight that made him drop.
—1915
Memory
When it goes when I finally go over there where daylight may also be possible birds will call the dusk just as they do here. And when the wind smears the calm white peak of the mountain we will find ourselves on the beach again behind the strip of rock with nothing before us. A cloud ambles a shout lets itself in the window cypresses mount a barrier to the salty air our hair is not dry yet. When we finally go beyond and far away someone will remain to wait for us listening for our return a single friend the tree’s shadow we abandoned to loneliness.
—19491
For the Time Being
Life is simple and light the bells have stopped tolling the sun shines clearly into things to finally reach me and my rooms. A bright single beam is enough to jolt the house the melody I sing is enough to talk suicides down from the ledge. The worst is I’m not a very good singer I’m careless with the notes that fly into the ears of others. But I’m not crazy I tell you I’m laughing at the bottom of the stairs before the sun-offering stoop by the vines that have climbed up over the wall like outstretched arms outstretched to everything. Today is the day I love you all.
—1916
PIERRE REVERDY (born 1889 in Narbonnes, France) is widely acknowledged as one of the great poets of the twentieth century. The author of dozens of collections, including *Les Epaves du ciel* (1924), Reverdy was also a peer and inspiration to writers like Louis Aragon, Guillaume Appollinaire, André Breton, Paul Éluard and many in the Surrealist Movement. In his later years he lived a spiritual and quasi-monastic life near the Benedictine monastery at Solesmes, where he died in 1960.
WILLAM VALLIÈRES' work has appeared in *The Walrus*, *The Fiddlehead*, *Grain*, *EVENT*, *Plenitude*, and *Best Canadian Poetry 2019*. Translations have appeared in *Contemporary Verse 2* and *The New Quarterly*. His first book of poetry, *Versus* (Vehicule Press), was published in 2019.Interested in being a Fellow Traveller? Email your poetry, prose, visual art, etc. to discordia.sucks@gmail.com. We pay (not much), and pieces are collected a few times a year in a small print edition.
Fellow Travellers “Eyes” banner adapted from Opal Louis Nations’ “An Eyeball Alphabet” (1980).
IN OTHER NEWS
This is why I’ll never have a book called 'The Florentine Nun'
"One day I turned and nobody was there, as if I had been tapped on the shoulder by a celestial preschooler. All the ideas of the world became wind, and people started losing their hats, sometimes even their heads, which rolled down the street like empty Coke cans, talking." Read some original poetry by William Vallières.
Ed. Note: William worked on these translations a few years ago, and wasn’t able to dig up the year of this poem’s original publication before press time. We’re using 1949 here, as the anthology he used for the original French (Main d’Oeuvre) collects poems written between 1923 and 1949.