Et si la température de nos larmes correspondaient à la profondeur de notre douleur?
Ceci est un poème que j’ai écrit sur le chagrin.
What if the temperature of our tears matched the depth of our pain?
This is a poem I wrote about grief.
No French translation available
The temperature of my tears
I was born in autumn on a Monday,
And I’d like to think it was a beautiful day.
From a soft red cocoon to this blessed afternoon,
I appeared as a little blue rose, fruit of an unloved union,
Welcome to the world of hypocrite illusion.
I see the earth before me and I wait, wait, wait, wait…
At the dawn of fear I wonder, is this life worth the dance?
Is this adventure worth its sufferance?
Blind and dazed, the vicious air forces me to take a chance,
Teasing my throat, tickling my tongue as I shamefully take my first breath,
Shedding my very first tears at my foetus’s death.
That day my tears were cold,
2) The Ego
My essence blossomed into a hopeful little doll,
Too delicate to play, too ignorant to fall.
Until one day I caught a glimpse of my own reflection,
My ego burst in complete rejection,
As I looked at my porcelain skin,
Reflecting my pathetic human life as a sin.
I don’t like what I see, mediocrity, my lack of beauty…
I see the shame, the sweat and the regret, the echo of this collective infamy.
I see my cage of weariness holding on to the woman I could never be,
Seducing the villains, my vain soul claiming its liberty.
That day my tears were warm,
Rolling with disgust, too weary to perform.
When the wilting leaves were cracking,
When the rattling wind was howling,
I looked outside my window and I saw the earth shaking and the trees burning.
The angry sky hunting the hope of our foolish souls, surviving lives hiding in dusty holes.
After a thousand human dreams,
After a thousand violent streams,
The air is empty of innocence and the obscure land grieves the phantom sun,
A sanctuary of agony until there will be none.
That day my tears were hot,
Blessed with horror,
Melting my skin, with shameful water,
Flooding the blood of our murderous.
But I am not alone,
To feel, that fervent desire to survive, oh too well known.
With the immortal heart that I do not possess,
I fell in love with you without any promesse.
I placed my lips in the sky, your words a star with a single caress,
Even the moon was moaning at the sight of our savage embrace.
My hope, barely disfigured, rushed into this candid animosity,
I got lost in this sweet loving debauchery and never ending ecstasy,
Your vicious hands dancing through this obscene violence as I began to finally be.
Days and nights to understand, how I could get so lost, in this poisonous loving chaos.
When you were gone,
I closed my eyes not to see,
I closed my eyes before the ashes of our passion,
I scattered flowers in the graveyard of our love.
That day my tears were burning,
Scorching my corrupted flesh, leaving scars on my spirit mourning,
That’s when I became water again,
Pure and damned.
Camille Pellicer Avril 2022