poetry The Norman Chronicles by Chantal Bizzini At the Dump Before the road bends, at the end of a wide path soaked by melted snow, you could hear the blasts. There, late at night, a man whose mind is not all there had climbed atop a garbage heap and stood, wild and overjoyed, facing a fire, tossing into it aerosol cans that exploded splendidly – alone, on this final night of the year. His boss was a good guy: every day, he picked him up and took him there. The Wall of the Barn That barn – I don’t remember it. Made of millstone, vast and rectangular, two symmetrical windows framed in brick; and now, it’s like a dream, a dream told about a morning, a dawn when the Fates lean over, and, in a sort of warning, announce the imminent death of an entire family, or village; when the fire started, everyone in the house was asleep, and maybe it was then the villagers saw from a distance the hungry flames seize the hay, the woods, and the whole blackening structure; heard the devouring, the screams, the chaotic footsteps; and, in the night, saw the false dawn of that unbearable heat that doesn’t mean morning but hell. Translations from the French By Zack Rogow Visit the WLT website to listen to a bilingual recording of these poems. Zack Rogow is author, editor, or translator of twenty books or plays. His translations include André Breton’s Earthlight and Colette’s Shipwrecked on a Traffic Island. Chantal Bizzini, poet, photographer, and translator, lives in Paris. Her poems have been translated into English, Spanish, Italian, and modern Greek. A selected poems was published as Disenchanted City (La ville désenchantée) in a bilingual edition by Black Widow Press. The cemetery as seen en route to Landes, Canappeville, Eure, France. Photo by Chantal Bizzini. WORLDLIT.ORG 13 ...
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