Old young love for painting


Sans titre” – Novembre 1992

Sur cette feuille que l’humidité ne traverse pas,
Dans un instant, j’y poserai la première touche.
Toi, que je porterai au delà du trépas,
D’un coup de brosse, la rose effleurera ta bouche.

Le vert de tes yeux ressortira à jamais,
Comme aussi profond que la forêt ombragée,
Des couleurs comparables à celles du mois de mai
Sortiront amères comme les remords, rongée.

Et ce blond, épi de blé à l’aquarelle,
S’étalera ta chevelure ronde et belle.
Quand, au vent, les pétales de coquelicot,

Volera le rouge de tes joues au poil ras.
Toujours en éveil, ton corps las, un peu plus bas
Une dernière fois, paraîtra d’un coup de pinceau.



Sonnet que j’ai  écrit quand j’étais jeune, amoureuse et passionnée de peinture…



On this  empty white sheet that moisture does not pass,
In a short moment, I will put the first light touch.
Your body and soul, who I will carry beyond death,
With a soft brush, the red rose will stroke your pale mouth.

The green of your bright eyes will come out forever,
Such as deep as a mysterious shady forest,
With the wild colors similar to those of May
Emerge as bitter as remorses, consumed.

And that blonde, as ear of wheat with watercolors,
Will run slowly in your round and beautiful hair.
When, in the wind, petals of a poppy flower,

Will fly by your soft red cheeks, thanks to my pencils.
Still awake, your weary body, a little lower
One last time, with a paintbrush, will appear, gently.



Poem I wrote when I was young, in love and an arts enthousiast.


All content © 2008-2015 by MademoiselleMV

© All Rights Reserved




~ by mademoisellemv on November 30, 2014.

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