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Poetry

Izina

By Ketty Nivyabandi
Translated from French by Shook

History will remember this man
Our grandchildren will study him between school recesses
Old women will speak of him as a strange enigma
A myth, an eccentric aberration . . .
The old men will brush off their shoulders
Their lesson finished, the children will rush to the courtyard to play ubete, the wolf
And mothers let out a weak sigh
At hearing their children cry:
Peter ninde? Ni wewe, ni wewe
Who’s Pierre? It’s you, it’s you.
There will be no more wolf on the vast schoolyards,
There will only be the memory of a man
Strange, lonely face overrun by wrinkles
They will speak of washing young men clean,
Of arithmetic calculations, Pythagoras’ theory
Of incredible equations of terms
Of absurd stories that will make teenagers snicker
And make sweethearts shudder
They will recount that he arose before dishonor
And many other unkind legends
An accident along the very bumpy history
of a country so green . . .
It will be said that he was a valiant fighter
That he defeated the most terrible wars
But that he forgot to win one, sovereign:
Eternal:

Izina

English French (Original)

History will remember this man
Our grandchildren will study him between school recesses
Old women will speak of him as a strange enigma
A myth, an eccentric aberration . . .
The old men will brush off their shoulders
Their lesson finished, the children will rush to the courtyard to play ubete, the wolf
And mothers let out a weak sigh
At hearing their children cry:
Peter ninde? Ni wewe, ni wewe
Who’s Pierre? It’s you, it’s you.
There will be no more wolf on the vast schoolyards,
There will only be the memory of a man
Strange, lonely face overrun by wrinkles
They will speak of washing young men clean,
Of arithmetic calculations, Pythagoras’ theory
Of incredible equations of terms
Of absurd stories that will make teenagers snicker
And make sweethearts shudder
They will recount that he arose before dishonor
And many other unkind legends
An accident along the very bumpy history
of a country so green . . .
It will be said that he was a valiant fighter
That he defeated the most terrible wars
But that he forgot to win one, sovereign:
Eternal:

Izina

Izina

L’histoire s’en souviendra de cet homme
Nos petits enfants l’étudieront entre deux recréations
Les vieilles femmes en parleront comme une étrange énigme
Un mythe, une excentrique aberration…
Les vieillards s’en brosseront les épaules
La lesson finie, les enfants se précipiteront dans la grande cour
Pour jouer ‘ubute’, au loup
Et les mamans lâcheront un léger soupir
En entendant les enfants crier:
Peter ninde? Ni wewe, ni wewe
Que est Pierre? C’est toi, c’est toi.
Il n’y aura plus de loup dans les cours des vastes écoles,
Il n’y aura que le souvenir d’un homme
Etrange, seul face à un peuple ridé,
On parlera de lessive de jeunes hommes,
De calculs arithmétiques, de théorèmes de Pythagore
D’équations rocambolesques de mandats
D’absurdes contes que feront ricaner les adolescents
Et frémir les petits anges
On racontera qu’il naquit avant la honte,
Et bien d’autres méchantes légendes
Un accident dans l’histoire bien cabossée
D’une si verte contrée…
L’on dira qu’il fut un vaillant combattant
Qu’il vaincu les plus terribles guerres
Mais en oublia d’en gagner une, souveraine:
éternelle:
 

Izina

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