by Julie Delvaux
Paroles, paroles... Is there a price to words,
Or their value is indeed invented,
When scales are used to measure their worth
To give to someone as a gift or credit,
To which the weights are always other words?
Paroles, paroles... From underneath their face
A subject lurks, occasional and silent,
Escaping to the infinitiveā€™s maze,
Abandoning the predicateā€™s confinement,
Confusing all superlatives in haste.
Paroles, paroles... I also live the words
But now, taking off my famous smile,
I think: do you have really any worth,
So usual, wise, eternal, versatile,
Or are you always words, but mere words?
2008
Translated from Russian by the author
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Julie Delvaux is an award-winning author and translator. Her previous work included publications of prose, poetry and translations of both famous writers and childrenā€™s books. After many years of living in the UK she now resides in Moscow, Russia where she teaches English and History, produces copious translations and relaxes with the knitting, surrounded by her pets. Her collection of philosophical essays on a common topic of solitude, Exercises in Loneliness, is available at online stores.
Last updated May 02, 2015