I stumbled across a website featuring some of the poetry of my Great Uncle Joe - a dirt-poor French-Canadian farmer who self-published his work out of Bodmin, Saskatchewan - and ran it through the google translator. Here's a sample:
"I have since long years there in a secretary,
Among my memories a black sealed envelope;
He was sent to me by a summer night --
Echo of a long sigh as I would have been silenced.
It is there. No one ever will know the mystery.
I fuck sometimes, vaguely troubled.
I listen, my heart beats! It seems to me tinkle
As tinkles in the mist of a monastery bell ...
And suddenly sad, as remorseful
I say: Why bother? - Since the beautiful sleeping
Silent for ever on the grid mass
Do not speak the posthumous letter
Let sleeping peacefully in their dark room
And the lover and the ice love letter!"
J'adore les outils linguistiques de Google! Photo of LA burning by M.A. Peers, returning from Santa Barbara dogshow Sunday afternoon.
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