Sujet : Cummings et Josephine Miles
Deux petits textes que j'aimerais partager pour les anglophones
Tout d'abord un texte tirés du journal of a disapponted man de B. F. Cummings :
To me the honour is sufficient of belonging to the universe such a great universe, and so grand a scheme of things. Not even Death can rob me of that honour. For nothing can alter the fact that I have lived; I have been I, if for ever so short a time. And when I am dead, the matter which composes my body is indestructible
and eternal, so that come what may to my 'Soul,' my dust will always be going on, each separate atom of me playing its separate part.
I shall still have some sort of a finger in the pie. When I am dead, you can boil me, burn me, drown me, scatter me but you cannot destroy me: my little atoms would merely deride such heavy vengeance.
Death can do no more than kill you.
Ensuite, un sublime poème de Josephine Miles
Death did not come to my mother
Like an old friend.
She was a mother, and she must
Up and down the bed she fought crying
Help me, but death
Was a slow child