Download Alphabet : Inédit by Paul Valéry PDF

By Paul Valéry

"En présence de los angeles lumière, et toutefois hors d'elle, de los angeles fenêtre haute, l'Ange du monde entier, qui d'une voix d'azur et d'or, sur le seuil de ce jour et de l'espace libre, annonce les cieux, les campagnes, les mers, les étendues, les peuples et les déserts, proclame et représente le reste et le Tout, affirme toutes ces choses qui sont en ce second même et qui sont comme si elles n'étaient element ; en présence de mes mains, de mes puissances, de mes faiblesses, de mes modèles, et hors d'eux ; distinctive de mes jugements, également éloigné de tous les mots et de toutes les formes, séparé de mon nom, dépouillé de mon histoire, je ne suis que pouvoir et silence, je ne fais element partie de ce qui est éclairé par le soleil, et mes ténèbres abstention est plénitude. "

Alors qu'il venait d'acquérir vingt-quatre lettrines gravées, un éditeur demanda à Valéry d'y associer vingt-quatre poèmes en prose dont chacun commencerait par une lettre différente. L'écrivain se proposa aussitôt d'y évoquer les vingt-quatre heures du jour, composa le recueil sans tout à fait l'achever, mais ne le publia pas. A certaines lettres de l'alphabet correspondent donc plusieurs poèmes, et c'est l'ensemble de ces textes qui se trouve ici rassemblé pour los angeles première fois.

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Extra info for Alphabet : Inédit

Sample text

Suburban Homer, not suburban hero, all I can tell of it now is night and walking into and out of dark between the halos of streetlights down a dark-bright avenue. Where was I going, furious and afraid, hurrying from what had happened, which, because I could not say it, wouldn’t stop happening inside me, like some undeserved but longed for violence or violation I needed to get out of myself so as to quiet the total infant hunger of the sound of it inside me screaming to get out? The solace I was after was an afterlife, humiliations of the body burned away in the fiery headlights to a name on every grief struck tongue inside a house my absence fills more than my presence could, each one repeating versions of what now they tell themselves they should have seen the signs of all along, imagining (if they had) the many ways they would have loved me better.

The gods laugh, that’s what they’re good at, laughing. They laugh at the crippled god, his shriveled legs, His hobbling, and his mother, in a little Shadow play of suffering at the sight of him, Her crippled baby laughs the loudest, and then Laughs even louder when she hurls him out Of heaven, and he falls, and while he falls The laughter echoing around him is The measure of the pure unbreathable cold Height of the heaven he’s falling from and through, Hilarity of light and air, delight’s Effacement of everything but itself.

Two million years ago, and yet what comes to me, in time-lapse through cascading chains of changing bodies, is not the tiny skull I’m holding, not the clawed out eye sockets, his fractured jaw, but you, old mother, just then in that Ur-moment of his being gone, what I’ve felt too, on crowded streets, in malls, if only briefly, in the instant when the child beside me who was just there isn’t before he is again, that shock, that panic, that chemical echo of your screaming voice. ) along lines of force in fields of force that lessen never quite to nothing over infinite distances, at all times, in all directions where there’s no direction and even light is sucked like a body into the densest hole of it, or curls, 22 photon by photon, at its horizon like a flock of starlings— and in the dream vision of its utter opposite—which is not grace—you are the object only, the merely acted on, subjected to, dumb thing at rest, in nothing, nowhere, immoveable, or moved so continuously forward at the same speed it’s the same as rest— it is the nightmare of the absence of all sense of this way or that or fast or slow, which suddenly you wake from, falling without time enough to reach for anything between what’s rushing from you and what’s rushing up.

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Alphabet : Inédit by Paul Valéry


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