Sandar Jayat: Off-limits to Nomads
Translated from the French at http://lune-nomade.over-blog.com/categorie-11078754.html (see also
http://www.tailouana.org/tziganes_dictons_poemes.html) by cew.
"Off-limits to nomades"
Why not
Off-limits to the moon
"Off-limits to nomads"
But the leaves of the tree-friends
Tumble
On these impoverished paving stones
The doors of nature
Open three hours
Just three hours
The day becomes blue night
And the faces on cardboard
With the rank smell
Have no truth
But the impossible
Injustice of uprooting
The wood sticks
That have touched my shoulder
Impossible to imprison
The spring water
That has breathed across my haunches
Impossible to crush
The insolent stones
Under legendary feet
Impossible that the desert
Disown its tribes.
Note
Phrases like "Off-limits," ". . . three hours/The day becomes blue night," and, indeed, the entire poem seem to be a response to a French law allowing France's mayors to determine when, where, and for how long gypsies may park or camp. The rights of gypsies, who were formerly enslaved in Romania, are an issue in Europe especially as many Gypsies chose to remain 'stateless,' refusing to carry identity cards.
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