in dreams we need no common language
a *trade language is what it’s called but my holds and vaults
are empty in the spring
the world is re/a/d when my eyes are closed and when they are open too /olé/
电影 \ electric shadows \ on and through my breathing skin-kinematic
| kuivat kuvat catturati tatuati their meaning long gone
and in dreams we would need no common language
but an uncommon one (that slip of the tongue
will be my tax slip next year)
((things become treasures not when buried but squandered))
| … the down the down the down-beat started the dance as always
your imperial purple fluttered in the dark like a revolutionary f-lag
au printemps de la valse
花t auki
見
tapped sources så tapt & soon a slow 津波 toppled the walls and the vaults and the waltz
no errata no erröten regrets re-hearsed re-hersés blossom in time
but although in dreams we did not need a common language
we whispered one with wet tongues with-out grammar and never wrote it down
[year 1: the customs were stormed by the crowd within and without
and they took the streets and burned the logs]
it seems like we slept by the same smoky storytelling fire (as you can smell)
and painted red bisons with fear and passion for five thousand years
a *trade language is what it’s called but my holds and vaults
are empty in the spring
the world is re/a/d when my eyes are closed and when they are open too /olé/
电影 \ electric shadows \ on and through my breathing skin-kinematic
| kuivat kuvat catturati tatuati their meaning long gone
and in dreams we would need no common language
but an uncommon one (that slip of the tongue
will be my tax slip next year)
((things become treasures not when buried but squandered))
| … the down the down the down-beat started the dance as always
your imperial purple fluttered in the dark like a revolutionary f-lag
au printemps de la valse
花t auki
見
tapped sources så tapt & soon a slow 津波 toppled the walls and the vaults and the waltz
no errata no erröten regrets re-hearsed re-hersés blossom in time
but although in dreams we did not need a common language
we whispered one with wet tongues with-out grammar and never wrote it down
[year 1: the customs were stormed by the crowd within and without
and they took the streets and burned the logs]
it seems like we slept by the same smoky storytelling fire (as you can smell)
and painted red bisons with fear and passion for five thousand years
© Toni Härkönen
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Aleksi Barrière is a French-Finnish writer and theater director working mostly, in both capacities, for the stage and in collaboration with musicians. His texts harvest images and narratives in haunted gray areas between media and languages. In print he is also a translator, most recently of poetry collections by Eeva-Liisa Manner into French.
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