{"id":45983,"date":"2023-09-27T05:00:28","date_gmt":"2023-09-27T04:00:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/?p=45983"},"modified":"2025-06-08T16:28:11","modified_gmt":"2025-06-08T15:28:11","slug":"all-old","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/all-old.html","title":{"rendered":"All The Old"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

All the old folks are losing their heads. What do you think? Why would I be an exception? Law is tough, but law. As he used to say, uh? Isn\u2019t that my neighbor? The old bum Ficelle never had a bit of brain, but with age, se mean he’s been! No knowing what he said. And still, he was half my age when the Archons took him to rot. Pretending not. We must die to feed them.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Violent Fish<\/h4>\n

All the old people, yes. I know I won\u2019t cut it. I\u2019m comfortable, I\u2019m not bringing her back. I\u2019m the one who remembers. When someone asks me anything, I say Yes I remember very well! Well! You believe what? QSue I lose my mind? Once I said that to a cop who gave me a dirty look. Nevertheless, he really had a stupid face. I don\u2019t like cops and their kind. Wait? Stop the cop? You confuse me with your stories! It\u2019s not that it bothers me, no, but you’re so confusing, you know! You talk too much, that\u2019s it. You\u2019re not that bad, but not so good. And too talkative, you chat all the time. You just shut up my potato face.<\/p>\n

What are you saying? Just speak up. Or shut up. I don\u2019t know what I\u2019m saying anymore. It\u2019s your fault too! You always have to bring her back. Let me talk, since you have nothing to say. Where did I put my head pill? I gotta get one or they\u2019re gonna take the bastards. What was I saying? Oh yeah, you talk too much. Shut up once and for all. I\u2019m talking and you\u2019re listening. It\u2019s not complicated. Before you understood what I was saying, now I don\u2019t know where you\u2019re going, but when I talk to you, you\u2019re not there. Never there when I need you.<\/p>\n

You did the shopping? What did you bring us? Not fish I hope, you always bring fish, you know I hate that. It\u2019s sticky, it slips and it stinks. I don\u2019t understand why you like to fish. Sitting for hours on a rock! If you still fished coconuts! Or French fries. How long have you been making me French fries? Ch’sais even could. Long ago it\u2019s safe. That yes. Too long. Sometimes I want you to be a fairy. A chop and knock! You change your stinky fish into a plate of fries! Yes, I would really like that. Macache! More fish.<\/p>\n

What kind of fish is that? Do I know? Who cares, it\u2019s violent fish. Why don\u2019t you go fishing for fries?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\nInner speed<\/h4>\n

You go wrong, change roof, he says like that. Move from there. Look for the world where you are. Go but without settling there. Visit. Explore. The astral is your garden. The multiverse awaits you, prospers. Go pick the flowers of Helicanthe in infinite delicacy, in incredible fragrance — structural polymelody with inexhaustible beauty. Everything is yours. The new, the new, the possible, and what doesn\u2019t exist. Don\u2019t be complacent. Take everything. What you don\u2019t want can\u2019t be of use to anyone else.<\/p>\n

Just pass. But quickly. Armed with your speed, you will no longer need comets. When you decide to live, the shooting stars run slower than your soul. Please, do not pray. Do not bow down. Be the god who hovers above. He will descend from heaven to sit at the right of you.<\/p>\n

To your left are the dead in groups. The disappointed in life who envy you. You divert the conversation. Nothing to give, not a crumb. The geese ate them.<\/p>\n

Where are they going? Who are they? As they are far from the ground!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nDeadly frog<\/h4>\n

You were born the year of the rabbits. There were rabbits all over the island. By the fields. In the city. They were not bad, just a little clumsy. At the top of the volcano, charming under the thistle. When in your samovar was boiling chamomile and in the street of the bed so many marbles flowed. The rabbit droppings filled everything on earth. What a wonderful bargain or a sad affair!<\/p>\n\n

\nten days after you slammed the door
\nyour blood splashing from the aorta
\ntill your heart is beating no more<\/p>\n

watch over this body we take
\nfrom the weakest to the strongest
\nleave the bad to the good hostess<\/p>\n

to temperance you’re exhorted
\ndon\u2019t punish you as you did
\nyour soul’s screaming you\u2019re not dead<\/p>\n

come on, the wind carries you
\nwhere misfortune will be comfort
\nhow can such a void abort<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

First Evening (Premi\u00e8re Soir\u00e9e)<\/h4>\n
\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n
Her clothes were almost off;
\nOutside, a curious tree
\nBeat a branch at the window
\nTo see what it could see.<\/p>\n

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
\nHalf nude, she clasped her hands.
\nHer feet trembled on the floor,
\nAs soft as they could be.<\/p>\n

I watched as a ray of pale light,
\nTrapped in the tree outside,
\nDanced from her mouth
\nTo her breast, like a fly on a flower.<\/p>\n

I kissed her delicate ankles.
\nShe had a soft, brusque laugh
\nThat broke into shining crystals –
\nA pretty little laugh.<\/p>\n

Her feet ducked under her chemise;
\n“Will you please stop it!\u2026”
\nBut I laughed at her cries –
\nI knew she really liked it.<\/p>\n

Her eye trembled beneath my lips;
\nThey closed at my touch.
\nHer head went back; she cried:
\n“Oh, really! That’s too much!<\/p>\n

“My dear, I’m warning you\u2026”
\nI stopped her protest with a kiss
\nAnd she laughed, low –
\nA laugh that wanted more than this\u2026<\/p>\n

Her clothes were almost off;
\nOutside, a curious tree
\nBeat a branch at the window
\nTo see what it could see.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Arthur Rimbaud<\/strong>
\nCahiers de Douai, 1870<\/a>Arthur was 16<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\nSecond salad<\/h4>\n

Don\u2019t stay where your life put you.<\/p>\n

What do we know about you? Mourning is not appropriate.
\nYour life will do nothing. You made it live,
\nNot the other way around. He kills you.<\/p>\n

His blade is bare
\nwho leaves as she came.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t wait for the molt,
\ndon\u2019t linger under the naked
\nfor fear that heaven will take revenge.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s the wind eating you.
\nThe weather is changing.
\nHe gets scared
\nAnd in a corner puts you.
\nThis corner of you that itches.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Third Service<\/h4>\n

You see yourself weak, fragile. You know you are fearful, deceitful, unhappy. Stop. Progress. Forget these basenesses. You are princess and vengeful. Do you think you are synonymous? You are quite the opposite. I know, I have seen it. In your night the sun can shine for whole days. Black banished, on the scrap clouds. See the avenging sun, its glory, it is victorious. It dazzles the nights. Near the Pole it is called high midnight sun. Since when? Do you know who?<\/p>\n

Would you like to go? Please don’t settle there. No stalling. You stop, you lost. They will take your due, they will dry your dew and the plump body of you will end in fondue.<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s live every day as if it were the last. Because one day it will be true.<\/p>