si j'étais une chandelle,
je ne serais pas allumé.
je serais en solitude mélancolique,
au fond d'un tiroir obscuré
un jour, une personne me trouverait,
et avec son allumette, elle m'enflammerait.
je laisserait son feux me brûler,
afin de lui fournir de la clarité.
je travaillerais jour et nuit,
mais je me trouverais sans ennui.
car, devant moi, j'eclairerais un face,
plus jolie que toutes celles de notre race.
en travaillant tout le temps sans cesse,
je me diminuerais trop vite.
et un jour je me trouverais
Une balle de cire, toute petite
elle trouverait que mon feux,
ne serait pas assez vigoureux.
donc elle me jeterait aux ordure,
comme un intrus, seul et méprisé
-Galiléo Pigeon Edwards (2019)
(English translation)
The Forgotten Candle
if I were a candle,
I will not be lit.
I would be in melancholy loneliness,
at the bottom of a dark drawer.
one day, someone would find me,
and with her match, she would ignite me.
I would let her fire burn me,
in order to provide her with clarity.
I would work day and night,
but I would find myself without trouble.
because, in front of me, I would light a face,
prettier than all those of our race.
always working all the time,
I would decline too quickly.
and one day I would find myself
A wax ball, very small
she would find that my fires,
would not be vigorous enough.
so she would throw me to junk,
as an intruder, alone and despised.
-Galiléo Pigeon Edwards (2019)
