I have a set of translations from Mallarmé’s Vers de circonstance in issue 3 of MOTE, edited by Dominic Hale in Edinburgh. Other contributors are Kashif Sharma-Patel, Peter Gizzi, Ellen Dillon, Robert Kiely, Azad Ashim Sharma, Alison Rumfitt, Imogen Cassels, William Fuller, Tessa Berring, A K Blakemore, Dominc Hale, Fred Spoliar, Pratyusha and Ollie Tong. dhale [at] ed [døt] ac [døt] uk for enquiries/pdf.
I have just barely started to pull myself together again after this event which is one of the greatest sorrows of my life and an irreparable loss for me.
Nothing will give back to me this friendship with a unique man, the epitome of the most daring thought, the most modest life, and of the most pure, most incomparable honour. The tenderness which he sometimes showed towards me is, and always will be, for me, the only external reason I could admit for valuing myself a little.
I found his coffin in the garden next to the Seine upon which his little boat was still floating. His daughter fell into my arms, recalling to me the sentiments of her father with regard to me. It is an immense blow for her, she had sacrificed everything to her father, the best chances of marriage, etc.
The people arrived; there were a lot of people there for Valvins, and even enough.
I had had a beautiful wreath made by Augustin, which I brought with me.
Fortunately, apart from Mendès, there were few literary undertakers.
The Church was very far off, then the cemetery in an admirable position, absolutely analogous to that of his house.
There, Roujon, who, like everyone, was dressed in country clothes (except for myself who had come from Paris – almost all like cyclists or in Summer clothing) spoke very simply and very well all in all – since he said the important thing – the assurance that the two women would be cared for.
Then I was led forcibly to the graveside and obliged to speak.
I stammered a few words with neither sense nor sequence, I was so choked up. I returned to Paris with Héredia and Régnier.
“Le Temps” attributes to me two sentences which I don’t remember at all? In the end I am indifferent to all that.
Mallarmé has died of a strange accident, for such it must be called.
Since Monday he had a slightly sore throat. The doctor came to see him on Friday and he felt much better and wanted to get up. While he was speaking with the doctor, he stood up, grabbed at him, and fell dead, asphyxiated by a sudden spasm of the glottis, which had no direct relation to his indisposition. It is, it appears, an extremely rare case in pathology.
I’ve made a Lulu pamphlet of some of my translations of early poems by Théophile Gautier. 32pp A5 stapled, £3.00 + £2.99 postage in UK.
http://www.lulu.com/shop/th%C3%A9ophile-gautier/darkness/paperback/product-23880885.html
I have a poem, “From the language of Veronica Forrest-Thomson”, in the new issue (#12) of ZARF. Many thanks to Callie Gardner.
The poem dates from January 1995. Here’s how I did it:
I have a translation of “In the storm”, a short poem by Théophile Gautier, in the new issue 8 of SPAM zine. Many thanks to Denise Bonetti, Maria Sledmere, Max Parnell and Maebh Harper.
The Materials/Materialen Soundcloud now has a complete recording of WINDSUCKERS & ONSETTERS: SONNOTS for Griffiths, read by Manson and Mendoza. Thanks again to David and Lisa.
Now available from Materials:
WINDSUCKERS & ONSETTERS: SONNOTS for Griffiths
by Manson and Mendoza
Blue card covers, 48 pages, side-stapled. £5 inc p&p in UK (£6 Europe, £10 ROW).
WINDSUCKERS & ONSETTERS: SONNOTS for Griffiths is a collaborative project between Peter Manson & Mendoza in commemoration of Bill Griffiths (August 20, 1948 – September 13, 2007). The assemblage of ‘niners’ (nine sets of nine lines with nine syllables per line) uses, or responds to, text found in Fishing and Folk: Life and Dialect on the North Sea Coast (2008) & Pitmatic: Talk of the North East Coal Field (2007) compiled by Bill Griffiths.
Bill Griffiths was born in Middlesex and settled in Seaham, Co. Durham. Mendoza was born in Northumberland and settled in London. Peter Manson was born in Glasgow and settled in Glasgow.
You lose your light. spend all of your lives.
“endless doubtlessness, land-full / surprised-
ness”. unintelligible language.
eye-acute. “look at the sun rising…
unspeaking and becoming” light-like
sun-froth unGod. sun-needle gaze-blaze
erase death, and in-turn re-birth. this
land is gold. this coal is gold. this clan-
ship of miners is gold is gold is
Many thanks to David Grundy and Lisa Jeschke.
