« Goutte À Goutte », Plein verre, 1940 (May) by Pierre Reverdy, Translated by Pierre L’Abbé, 2011.
by Steven McCabe
Drop by drop
The habit of loving
The sap of fatigue
The torrents of sleep
In the pit of nefarious plans
If I had to give over the secret of the past
I would no longer fear the heaviness of blood
Being alone
Sharpens revelations on the edges of the wind
Weak and ugly
I sleep in gutters
Doubled, exposed to the weather
To the barbs of fate
To the blows of fortune
The bubbles of dark days burst in my hands
Life trembles irresolute on the edge of each sheet
Along the borders of the morning
I no longer take a turn
The forms of hatred
Cheeks bulging with fire
These starving ovens
When love enlightened breathes on bitterness
And dances on the dream-rope of nothingness
Pierre L’Abbé is a translator, a publisher, and the author of poetry and short story collections. He lives in Toronto.
When I began generating images for this Reverdy poem my focus was ‘self’ seeing ‘self.’ I wondered also if the poem was historical. I pictured incidents from World War Two. Or maybe psychological? The poem seemed to present an existentialism assuaged with the balm of cathartic love. And then because, coincidentally, I assembled this page on Easter Sunday, I considered (perhaps outlandishly) this being a dialogue between Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene. In two voices. An end to their metaphysical, sexual, emotional love. Hmm…perhaps too literal. I wasn’t sure where metaphor began and personal voice ended. This began a chain of associations concerning language, representation, authenticity, double-identity, etc… and I was back at the idea of ‘self’ (whatever that is) seeing ‘self.’ You know that feeling you have when you look in a mirror? You know it’s you but you’re not quite sure who ‘you’ is. You see yourself experiencing an image of your self. So, as you can see, the poem presented a host of interpretive challenges. Pierre L’Abbe would know far more than me about this poem’s purpose. As always, I went with my intuitive response in creating images. In this case a face and a figure interact while constantly transforming.
poemimage 
Well, constantly transforming, that is each one of us, isn’t it?
When you mention Easter it makes me think of a shroud because there are just ‘traces’ in some of these images. And yes, a bit iconic, too.
And this beautiful light. A dance with light and self…
Your process fascinates me.
Hi Karen,
Thank you very much for this note.
I stumbled across a quote yesterday, “All men contain several men inside them, and most of us bounce from one self to another without ever knowing who we are.”
― Paul Auster, The Brooklyn Follies
If this is a truism, It seems Reverdy was an exception to the rule; acutely aware of observing dual or multiple selves.
Each one of us, it seems, is in some form of constant transformation…defining it is elusive…awareness seems dependent upon our relationship to time…finding a psychic space where one ‘tumbles’ with the image…
And here (with this illuminated screen) a medieval moment or two. Not timelessness but something slowed down. I appreciate Pierre L’Abbe translating this work and allowing me the opportunity, and challenge, to explore it visually & metaphorically. Your thoughts about shrouds and traces set off visual and visceral associations.
It occurred to me, and I don’t know how I missed it, that the main face in these images is from a painting I did in 2001 called Shadowing Shadowed. I didn’t even make that link until now. How ‘Shadowing Shadowed’ relates to ‘Drop by Drop.’
I, too, find the process of altering images a fascinating process. And then after placing one next to the words I usually see how the colour and texture, feeling and focus needs to be something quite different.
There is a strong taste of death and a strong question of its redemption, not yet answered. But that breath of love on bitterness is beautiful- there is light and hope coming through that shroud- depicted well in your images. I am fascinated by the colors this time.
Jack I share your feelings about the poem in terms of answers…I find it very deeply shadowed…this intrigues me…I appreciated the image switch of mood: ‘…when love enlightened breathes on bitterness.’ And yes to the idea of a shroud. The colours do seem to blend with light coming through a shroud.