تويت
Son anniversaire qui revient
Poème de Mounira Fehri
Traduit vers l’anglais par
Walid Akermi
Heureuse encore
Car son anniversaire revient
Des années qui coulent
Des années qu’on déplore
Des années de gêne et de remords
De regrets tardifs et inodores
Qui taraudent son esprit
A minuit, à midi ou à l’aurore
Et très vite, très doucement
Elle revoit sa jeunesse
Sa limpidité et son allégresse
Ses désirs prometteurs
D’un avenir meilleur
Et l’avenir vint
Ni emballé ni dans un précieux écrin
Il avait le visage hideux
D’une longue saison vêtue d’oripeaux
Il avait le froid glacial
Des scènes mièvres et conjugales
Son anniversaire revient
Alors que tout est éteint
Les lampions sont brûlés
Comme ses plus belles années
?Fallait-il rêver
?Fallait-il pleurer
*******
Her birthday which is back
A poem of Mounira Fehri
Translated into English by
Walid Akermi
Still happy
Because her birthday is back
Years are flowing
Years which we deplore
Years of discomfort and remorse
Belated and odourless regrets
Which tap her spirit
At midnight, at midday or at dawn
And so fast, so quietly
She sees her youthfulness again
Her clearness and her cheerfulness
Her promising desires
For a better future
And the future came
!Neither packaged nor in a precious case
It’s had a hideous face
Of a long season wearing rags
It’s had a freezing cold
Of vapid and marital scenes
Her birthday returns
As everything is off
the lanterns are burnt out
like her most beautiful years
?Should she dream
?Should she cry
Still happy
Because her birthday is back
Years are flowing
Years which we deplore
Years of discomfort and remorse
Belated and odourless regrets
Which tap her spirit
At midnight, at midday or at dawn
And so fast, so quietly
She sees her youthfulness again
Her clearness and her cheerfulness
Her promising desires
For a better future
And the future came
!Neither packaged nor in a precious case
It’s had a hideous face
Of a long season wearing rags
It’s had a freezing cold
Of vapid and marital scenes
Her birthday returns
As everything is off
the lanterns are burnt out
like her most beautiful years
?Should she dream
?Should she cry
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