Bateau Ivre

Bateau ivre

Fuq blata, ħadt xemxata, parlant avec les muses,
le onde fino alle ossa del petto, e più in su,
dawra mejt, jien sturdejt, ma tête, ma tête elle tourne,
high and low, to and fro, no side, no tide, no moon,

inbaħħar, għadni nbaħħar, bla boxxla u bla tmun,
l’espoir, la mer à boire, ça coule, ça roule, ça bouge,
the world, the world astounds me, I’m bemused, I’m confused,
e vado alla deriva, y soy el mar azul.

X’crazy miscela de langues, de aguas, ta’ lwien, de mondes,
cent mille livres, bateau ivre, le flou d’idées reçues,
trickling sands, empty hands, après nous, le déluge,

żielaq taħt wiċċ il-baħar, la kwadru u lanqas tond,
no comprendo, mi arrendo, j’ai peur, c’est l’Inconnu,
u meta, għidli, meta se jittrakka l-vapur?



Drunken boat

On a rock, I got sunstroke, conversing with the muses, the waves up to the bones of my chest, and further up, round and round, I’ve gone dizzy, my head, my head it turns, high and low, to and fro, no side, no tide, no moon;

sailing, I’m still sailing, without a compass or a rudder, hope, the sea to drink*, it flows, it rolls, it moves, the world, the world astounds me, I’m bemused, I’m confused, and I am cast adrift, and I am the blue sea.

What a crazy mix of languages, of waters, of colours, of worlds, a hundred thousand books, drunken boat, the haze of received ideas, trickling sands, empty hands, after us, the deluge;

slipping below the line of the sea, neither square nor round, I don’t understand, I give up, I’m afraid, it’s the Unknown, and when, tell me, when will the boat dock?

* A modification of the French idiom “ce n’est pas la mer à boire”, meaning “it’s not impossible”

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