Jean Humenry
Boucler la boucle ?

My American Friends


If it's true that old wood is better to light a fire ...
If it's true that an old horse is better to ride...
If it's true that an old book is a better read ...
If it's true that an old wine is better to drink and savor...
It's also true that it's better to have an old friend.


And if it were enough for us The 20 Dec 2014 by Jean Humenry

And if it were enough for us

And if it were enough for us

Like the strings of a cello

To vibrate at the least whisper of a springtime breeze

 

And if it were enough for us

Like the ears of a doe sheltering in the woods

To know how to wait for and listen to silence

 

And if it were enough for us

Like the eyes of a child

To be amazed, dazzled just for a split second

By the improbable trajectory of a shooting star

 

And if it were enough for us

At each dawn, at each twilight moment

Like the wandering poet, to sit down on a stone wall

To get drunk on the smell of new-mown hay

 

And if it were enough for us

To know that our spirit is free

That nothing, no one can keep it captive

That the only barriers are the endlessness of hawthorn hedges

Or of eagle flights above the cliffs

 

And if it were enough for us

To know the happiness of getting lost, of going astray

In the middle of nowhere, in the middle of our dreams

At the outposts of the stars

Holding the hand of our children

Of our simple futures, our hopes

 

And if it were enough for us

To learn how to grasp what’s ephemeral

In a wink, without warning

In a simple wave of a hand

As when one must take leave

Just to pin our moments of happiness

On our lapel, on our memory

 

And if it were enough for us

To take life as it comes

To enjoy peaceful days

To learn how to remain naïve

Far from the shilly-shallying of a world going awry

 

And if it were enough for us

To know that we are simply alive


The Strange Choice of Chance The 03 Jan 2014 by Jean Humenry

The Strange Choice of Chance

 

If by chance, on a summer’s evening, the fleeting splotches of a golden light landed on your arms,

I hope you’ll let them touch you.

 

If by chance, drafts, wafts of melancholy air tried to close you in

I hope you’ll let them pass you by

 

If by chance, on a cold winter morning, crimson fog came in to surround you

I hope you’ll let it wrap you up

 

If by chance the dull roar of the surf tried to lure you towards the ravines

I hope you’ll continue on your way

 

I hope that you’ll arrive wherever it be, always curious and always gourmand.

I hope you’ll suddenly have nothing more to say, nothing more to tell.

I hope you’ll say that what happens to you is the luck that was due to happen to you

 

I hope you’ll choose the luck which you have chosen to bring about.

Let chance surprise you!

I hope you’ll choose to "rendez-vous "with the luck of chance.

I hope you’ll see it from afar, appearing like a mirage,

Like a faint and almost shapeless silhouette,

Like a blurred splotch advancing toward you.

I hope you’ll see it grow slowly larger,

Regularly.

This trembling,

Evanescent chance.

Step by step.

Your steps, its steps.

I hope you’ll see it as though through an icy fogged window

I hope you’ll be astonished, dazzled, captivated.

I hope you’ll be flustered

Staggered

I wish you the strange choice of chance for this year fast approaching.

 

 

Jean Humenry

 

 


My Words The 17 Dec 2013 by Jean Humenry

My Words

 

There are words as gray as the fog. 

There are words as wild as the wind.

There are the tender words of a moon music. 

There are the words of sun as warm as the bread one shares. 

There are the words which play the fool and appear to take everyone for a ride.

There are the words which know a lot more than they appear to.

And it's like that that the stories are born.

Like that, quite simply...


Those islands are far away The 16 Dec 2013 by Jean Humenry

Those islands are far away, those islands in time where I was only a child.

They are way over there, I think, far ahead, on the ocean of before, bathed by the waters of my tender years.

I don't know how to go back, so I have to go forward, and since the Earth is round... 

So I am going forward like this...

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