Translated from the French
From La sphinge mange cru (In English, Sphinx, forthcoming from Litmus Press)
A word is a form.
She sees an onion that needs to be eaten,
shuts it into a drawer,
sticks a flower in her book and goes out.
Walking she murmurs to herself alone.
A passerby makes out not the future but fuchsias.
It’s hopeless.
That much is sure, it’s hopeless and it will remain so.
You see the big confusion: between sexes
and grammatical genders.
Heroines of fava and saffron,
that symmetry reversed.
For a while she smokes only Gitanes—
so they called, in the 20th century,
tobacconists’ dark blend.
Later on she’ll prefer Celtiques, the corn paper kind.
She’s constantly stubbing them out.
Then a few other brands, all long-gone now:
the blue Bastos with their golden print
on an ultramarine backdrop.
Only Gauloises remain.
For a long time all of the backdrops were irregular vegetation.
For men, meat, dead and corruptible;
for gods, the smoke of burnt bones.
In August meticulously she copies out
each onomatopoeia she comes across
and tries hard to use it.
The word “chatter” meaning intense cold
is replaced by fear of (“shudder”).
a.) An optic sentiment seeking its form.
b.) Pure strategy for bolstering courage.
When no longer under the protection of Artemis,
the horses limp and the men stumble.
And the women?
A study of the galaxies,
elliptical or irregular spiral; she finds their likenesses
with her little bowl of milk.
The dead are heads cloaked with the night.
Representing witches requires a separate plank.
Yet the force of one bullet’s recoil propels
the next bullet into the chamber.
To wash the blood from cold game
when it falls on the ground
you’ll need some soap and a lot of water.
Un mot est une forme.
Regardant un oignon qui devait être mangé elle l’enferme dans
un tiroir.
Pose une fleur dans le livre et sort.
Murmure en marchant des phrases pour elle seule.
Un passant distingue pas pour le future mais pour les fuchsias.
C’est sans remède.
Cela est sûr c’est sans remède et pour longtemps.
Voyez la confusion grossière: celle des sexes et des genres
grammaticaux.
Héroïnes de la fève et du safran.
Cette symétrie inverse.
Durant un épisode assez long fume des Gitane (nom donné au
cours du XXe siècle à une cigarette brune fabriquée par la
Régie Française des Tabacs).
Plus tard elle préféra les Celtique papier maïs.
S’éteignant sans cesse.
Suivront plusieurs autres marques toutes disparues comme
les Bastos bleues à la typographie dorée sur fond bleu outremer.
Seules demeurent les Gitane.
Le végétal irrégulier occupe longtemps l’ensemble des décors.
Aux hommes la viande morte et corruptible aux dieux la fumée
des os calcinés.
En août elle recopie méticuleusement les onomatopées qu’elle
rencontre et s’efforce de les employer.
La locution a glagla désignant un froid intense est écartée au
profit de la peur (les avoir a glagla).
a> Sentiment optique cherchant sa forme.
b> Pure stratégie pour s’inciter au courage.
Les chevaux boitent et les hommes trébuchent lorsqu’ils ne se
mettent pas sous la protection d’Artémis.
Et les femmes?
Étude des galaxies.
Spirale elliptique ou irrégulière elle leur trouve des similitudes
avec son petit bol de lait.
Les morts sont des têtes vêtues de nuit.
La représentation des sorcières exige une planche séparée.
Pourtant la force de recul d’une balle propulse la balle suivante
dans la chambre.
Pour laver le sang du gibier froid tombé sur le sol il faut du
savon et beaucoup d’eau.
Read the Translator’s Dispatch: Lindsay Turner on Liliane Giraudon.
One of experimental French writing’s most powerful and undersung figures, Liliane Giraudon was born in Marseille in 1946 and continues to live and work in the city. Giraudon’s (many) books have, since 1982, been primarily published by France’s Éditions P.O.L. Giraudon has also been instrumental as an editor for influential reviews such as Banana Split, Action Poétique, and If; she performs and collaborates widely, including with (for example) Nanni Balestrini, Henri Deluy, Jean-Jacques Viton, and many others. Two of her books (Pallaksch, Pallaksch and Fur) were published in English by Sun & Moon Press in 1994 and 1995, respectively. In addition to Sphinx, Giraudon’s collection Love is Colder than the Lake is also forthcoming in 2023, translated by Lindsay Turner and Sarah Riggs, from Nightboat Books.
Originally from northeast Tennessee, Lindsay Turner is the author of the poetry collections Songs & Ballads (Prelude Books, 2018) and The Upstate (University of Chicago Press, forthcoming, 2023). Her award-winning translations from the French include works of poetry and philosophy by Stéphane Bouquet, Souleymane Bachir Diagne, Anne Dufourmantelle, Frédéric Neyrat, Ryoko Sekiguchi, and others. She lives in Cleveland, where she is Assistant Professor in English and Creative Writing at Case Western Reserve University.
Translation Series curated by Jae Kim.
