Poem by William F. O'Brien

Better To Try And Fail Than Never To Try At All

Some say risk nothing, try only for the sure thing,
Others say nothing gambled nothing gained,
Go all out for your dream.
Life can be lived either way, but for me,
I'd rather try and fail, than never try at all, you see.

Some say "Don't ever fall in love,
Play the game of life wide open,
Burn your candle at both ends."
But I say "No! It's better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all, my friend."

When many moons have gone by,
And you are alone with your dreams of yesteryear,
All your memories will bring you cheer.
You'll be satisfied, succeed or fail, win or lose,
Knowing the right path you did choose.

William F. O'Brien

A quote from Horace

Coelum, non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.

Courir au-delà des mers, c'est changer de climat, mais non changer de cœur.

Those who hurry cross the sea change their sky but not their soul or state of mind.

Horace, Epistulae I, 11 v. 27.

Wisdom

Mysterious wisdom,
can an artist be wise?
Beautiful wisdom,
can the wise man be in love?

O wisdom where art thou?
Dans les yeux du fou,
in the hands of the priest,
in the lines of the professor,
in the sins of the sinner?

Or maybe you are here.
In the steps that I left in the sand.
Just behind me.

(inspired by a quotation of E.F. Schumacher cited by Cédric Chavanne)

Congratulations Cam!

Jerome's blue machine,
plus two crazy odd-speaking kin.
A new life in the Hawaiian kingdom,
freedom.
A feeling that this land speaks to his spirit,
that he is not alone, can't you see it?
Go far far away, my dear Canadian,
your heart will always pulse
this island, its first wave at dawn
or the last one at dusk.
Makamaka,
Ho'omaika'i 'ana
Mau Loa

Petit poème de Blaise hors-contexte

Dans L'homme foudroyé, Blaise fait une critique acerbe de la banlieue de Paris telle qu'elle se developpait au debut du 20ième siècle: parcs d'immeubles suivant une "nouvelle" architecture très axée sur l'enlacement des geométries, remodelage intellectuel des relations entre voisins, plus vraiment le village pas encore la cité, façonnement de nouveaux lieux de rencontres tous droits sortis des théories sociales de ce début de siècle, avec les ouvriers, les prolétaires comme cobayes. La critique se finit par ce petit poème:

"Partir. Repartir.
Et la guerre qui se préparait?
Je serai de retour pour refaire la guerre.
Mais je ne bougerai pas un doigt pour défendre la bourgeoisie.
Ah, les salauds...
Au cœur et aux portes de Paris."

Blaise Cendrars, L'homme foudroyé, Rhapsodies gitanes, Troisième rhapsodie: La grand'route