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Jean-Christophe Dourdet was born in Limoges (Limousin,
France) in 1975.
From his childhood, he has kept the wonderful record of
Sundays spent in the countryside, time for innocence, playing
in the meadows and listening in the background to the music of
Langue d’oc spoken by his grand-parents.
At the age of 20, that was for him time for studies and
flirts. At his wife’s parents’, he discovered anew the
occitan from his grand-parents as spoken by his step-parents,
where they lived, in a little village of Charente limousine.
That seized him so much that he became eager to contribute to
the life of the language by speaking, reading and teaching
it.
The occitan authors like Delpastre, Melhau, Chadeuil,
Combi, Rouquette... gave him the impetus to write.
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As a librarian and linguist, Jean-Christophe has written
some poetry and prose, a tale of which with the collaboration of his
wife, which was published in the magazine Paraulas de Novelum.
One of his poems, entitled Rebats dau Libre, was granted a
reward in a literary contest, Aran de Literatura, organized in
the Val d’Aran. Jean-Christophe keeps on writing, aiming at publishing
some of his works.
Jean-Christophe also pursues doctoral studies, at the
University of Poitiers, in the linguistic field examining stress and
intonation distribution in occitan from Limousin. |
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Pichatau
Flau, flau, flau,
Entau vòla lo pichatau.
Aitau, se pausa,
en plen dins lo vargieron,
pautas contra sòla,
bon ras lo claus daus ritons.
Quau Plumalhon... Pichatau !
De verd, de roge,
M'esbaudisses.
Quala coeta, quau tufet !
Oà, Pichatau !
Flet, emb un ulhauç,
Ses tornat dins lo ciau
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Woodpecker
Flo, flo, flo,
so flies the woodpecker.
so it lands,
in the middle of the orchard,
legs over the ground
close of the pen of the ducks.
What a plumage ... woodpecker!
Green, red,
you're amazing me.
What a tail, what a tuft!
Wow! woodpecker
smart, in a flash,
you're gone back to the sky
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Eslifrauds d'inconsciéncia
'N'auseu dins lo ciau galier,
Los lunons,
Un parpalhòu,
Magre ermitan dau 'Nivers...
Des'trape, prene la volada,
devers Jupiter,
detras las boinas dau sistema solar,
long dau Chamin de Sent-Jaume,
dins l'espaci inachabable.
Me miralhe de fàcia a Rigel, la bluia,
M'espandisse davant Canis Majoris,
Espelisse rasís W-Cephei.
Quite aquela viá, desviada,
m'esconde au mieg dau nonren.
M'esmeravilhe !
Afen, sei pas pus,
ren mas grun d'estelum,
pouvera cosmica,
fiau de vita perdut,
vibracion de còrda tindada,
Mon còrs pulsa,
polsa,
espeta...
Avaliment de l'espaci
Sinhau de 'Chabacion
dins l'Infinit...
Sei 'quí sus lo chamin,
las peiras que musiquegen,
Las mias ondadas que responden.
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Shreds
of unconsciousness
A bird in the big sky
stars,
A butterfly,
tiny hermite of the Universe ...
I leave the ground, I fly
toward Jupiter,
behind the limits of the solar system,
along the Milky Way,
in the infinite space.
I shimmer in front of blue Rigel,
I dwell before Canis Majoris,
I appear very close of W-Cephei.
I leave this path, diverted,
I hide myself in the middle of nothing
I'm amazed
Finally, I 'm nothing but
a grain of firmament
Cosmic dust,
thread of life lost
vibrating tinkling string,
My body pulses,
blows
explodes ...
disappearance of space
Signal of the end of all things
within the Infinite ...
I'm here over the road
stones are playing music,
and my heartbeats reply.
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