“Georgia”

It’s Tuesday again, which means it’s translation day. This week’s selection is a poem by Philippe Soupault—the title poem from his 1926 collection, Georgia. Soupault was at the time a central figure in the Surrealist movement: he was a co-founder of the jornal Littérature, along with André Breton & Louis Aragon, & he co-authored Les champs magnétiques with Breton. Soupault later drifted away from the Surrealist movement, & devoted more time to journalism & novel writing. He was imprisoned by the Nazis during World War II. After the war, Soupault emigrated to the United States, but he later returned to France, where he was awarded Le Grand Prix for literature in 1972.

Hope you enjoy this.

Georgia


I don't sleep Georgia
I throw spears through the night Georgia
I'm waiting Georgia
I'm thinking Georgia
Fire is like snow Georgia
Night is the girl-next-door Georgia
I hear all noises no exceptions Georgia
I see the smoke rising and scattering Georgia
I prowl like a wolf through the shadows Georgia
I'm running here's a suburban street Georgia
Here's a town that's the same
and that's strange to me Georgia
I'm hurrying here's the wind Georgia
and the cold the silence and fear Georgia
I'm scattering Georgia
I'm running Georgia
the clouds are low they're going to fall Georgia
I open my arms Georgia
I don't close my eyes Georgia
I'm calling Georgia
I'm crying Georgia
I'm calling Georgia
I'm calling you Georgia
Won't you come Georgia
don't be long Georgia
Georgia Georgia Georgia
Georgia
I'm not sleeping Georgia
I'm waiting
Georgia

Philippe Soupault
translation © John Hayes 1990-2009