Occitan poetry  980-2006

by Joan-Frederic Brun



Jean-Frédéric Brun

Born in 1956 in Montpellier,  speaks and writes since teenage the true and original idiom of this city, ie, of course, Occitan! Physician working at full time in an University Hospital and involved in biomedical research. Fascinated since his adolescence by the possibilities of expression of the Occitan language  and by the shimmer of the imaginary  that it conveys, he published in this language books of poems (Estius E Secaresas, 1979; Lo doç esmai, 2003; Legendari de las Despartidas (to appear soon) and novels (Lo Retrach dau Dieu Negre, 1987; Setembralas, 1994; Lo Temps Clar de las Encantadas, 2005; Luònh (2006); Legendari de las Despartidas (2009);Ciutats dins l'Azur (2009); las que dançavan dins la lutz  (to appear soon); los Òrts de la Divessa (to appear soon). Has collaborated since 1974 to the journal “Oc” and for a few years, developed a very documented website, devoted to occitan literature in the area of Montpellier.Since 2008 he is president of the French section of the international PEN-club. 
Medieval poetry: the kingdom of love
XVI-XVIII century: tasty baroque antiliteratures
XIX th century: toward a renaissance
XIX th century (1854-1914):  spreading and sclerosis of the Provençal miracle
XX th century (1920-1965): the anguish of no future
XX th century (1965-1981): "un país que vòl viure" (a coutry that just wants to live)
XX th century (1981-2000): postoccitanisme
XXI th century: just a living literature among many other ones? 


The webmaster


to email me







Ò mon amor tras l'amaror dau temps

t'espeliriás dins la grisor mofleta

coma lo fugidís rodam dels ivèrns


tinda en l'espessor fernissenta

la suauda mauvolença de l'aiganha


lo viure encimerlat d'abséncia

se reflectís dins la tafa de la nèu 






- Oh! my love, beyond the taste of bitterness of time, you would spread out in the soft greyness, like the fleeing wheel of winters. 

In the quivering thickness tinkles the suave perversity of dew. 

Life, capped with absence, is mirrored in the whiteness of snow.  


Lo mistèri de las fadas es tanben mistèri de l'imois au mitan de la sequièira. Pus naut que los pendisses de ròcas blanquinosas, país de la set sens escapa, i a de tèrras roginèlas ont l'aiga demòra longtemps quand a plogut.  Aicí butan d'autras èrbas, aicí bresilha l'insectona, aicí cantan los aucèls. Aicí dançan elas quand lo temps es incèrt e marca la tronada. Dança miraclosa que totescàs se vei dins la lutz leugièira, coma un fremiment de nivolina.

The mystery of fairies is also a mystery of moisture in the heart of dryness. Higher than cliffs of bleached rocks, the country of inescapable thirst, lay reddish soils where water remains for a long time after rain. There other grasses grow, insects buzz, birds  sing. There they whirl, when the weather becomes uncertain and announces storms. An amazing dance that one can imperceptibly make out in the gentle daylight, like a quivering of mist.



Lo bèl estiu sens finida ni tèrme

se resclaus sus son ànsia d'existir

ges d'endeman ne despampa la brelha

tot es silenci tosc e bleuja abséncia!


çai vòle demorar          sus la margina

dau temps crudèl que chapa los espèrs

e rosega lo frau de la jovença

çai vòle estar enchichorlat de lutz


lo caumanhàs descamina los crèires

e dissòuv l'immanéncia dau voler

sola remanh l'impossibla oblidança


dins lo clarum immobil de la set

se refai lo silenci embelinaire

ont tot i trai, lo rire e la dolor.




The beautiful and totally endless summer,

is closed again over its anguish of being,

and there is no future unfoiling its fibers,

all is moist silence and dazzling absence! 


Here I want to remain, on the margin

of the cruel time devourer of  hopes

and corrode the proud dash of youth,

Here do I wish to stay, inebriated of light.  


Hot summer days make dubious the ways of belief

and dissolve the immanence of will:

only remains the impossible forgetting


in the motionless limpidity of thirst

is rebuilt the bewitching silence,

and all leads there, laughter, as well as pain. 

There is no copyright. Our aim is to disseminate our culture among all  interested people and not to earn money with it.