Occitan poetry

Occitan poetry 980-2007

by Joan-Frederic Brun

Aurelià Lassaque

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 country that just wants to live)

XX th century (1981-2000): postoccitanisme

XXI th century: just a living literature among many other ones?

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Aurelia Lassaque (23 years) lives in the Lot. Her poems have been published in Camins d’estiu and Òc. In 2001, she won the prize of the Bath Royal Literary and Scientific Institution. Her first book of poems "Cinquena sason" has been published by Letras d’Òc (Toulouse). She is also a comedian (Comèdia occitana tolzana).

Èran sèt a tustar.
Cara e sang en ofrenda a las onglas.
Rire de dents poiridas.
Sason mòrta.
Mots cunhats dins l'espaci
Que tot s'i pòt rescondre.
Secrets d'amor.
Laguis muts.
Sabi ieu.
Vòstre rire sentís a poiridum de l'èime.
Avètz quitat de sorire
Dempuèi qu'avètz las dents negras.

Seven of them striking.
Face and blood as offerings under their fingernails.
Laughter showing rotten teeth.
Season of death.
Words stuffed into space
Where everything can hide.
Secrets of love.
Silent pain.
I know.
Your laughter reeks of a rotted mind.
You no longer smile, now that your teeth are black.

Translation : Louise Esher.

Al castèl de Bonaguil

Me disiái qu'èra bèl
Lo volontavi endacòm dins l'escur.
L'esperavi contra la pèira brausenta.
La calorassa del jorn
S'èra acoconada dins mon còs
E me quitava pas.
Lo veguèri dançar de luènh.
Semblava immortal al mitan del brasàs.
Sa lenga de fuòc
Ne vesiái lo rebat
Dins l'agach emmascat dels dròlles.
L'esperèri
Fins al moment
Que lo veguèri
Abraçar aquela bruneta
Qu'aviá ensenhat las chifras
A un ase.

Landreja encara
De temps en quora
Dins mos sòmis d'agost.

At the castle of Bonaguil

I thought him beautiful,
Desired him, somewhere in the darkness,
Waited for him, leaning against the burning stone.
The day's oppressive heat,
Curled up inside my body,
Would not leave me.
I saw him dancing
Far off,
Like an immortal
Amidst the flames.
His tongue of fire
I could see reflected
In the spellbound gaze of the children.
I waited for him
Until the moment
When I saw him
Kiss the dark girl
Who had taught an ass
To count.

He still wanders
Now and then
Through my August dreams.

La nòvia languiva

a Joan-Maria Petit

Vestida de dentèla e de lutz
La nòvia languiva
Se virèt dapasset
Cap al prèire
Amb un agach
A far plorar
Los sants de fusta
Que pregavan per ela
En silenci.

The languishing bride

for Joan-Maria Petit

Dressed in lace and in light
The languishing bride
Turned slowly
To the priest
With a look
Fit to bring tears
To the wooden saints
Praying for her
In silence.

Aurelià Lassaca, Cinquena sason, Letras d'Òc, 2006.
Revirada / Translation : Louise Esher.

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