Recently, when I was in Paris, I visited the Bon Marché store, which is a regular haunt of mine. I usually head directly to the top floor where they have a very excellent librarie/bookshop. I love to browse there and to see what is being published in French and also who has been translated into French. During my last visit, I chanced upon this title, LIBERTY, which is not a book as such but an illustrated poem. The poem was written by Paul Éluard, published clandenstinely in 1942 - during the German occupation of France - and, later, illustrated by the artist Fernand Léger. I was intrigued and bought it instantly. My plan is to frame it and hang it on the wall. When I took it from its box and it opened like a concertina, I found alongside it, an excellent history of the poem's destiny which is a tale in itself.
The poem, Liberty, was taught in schools. It was adapted to a song and recited in cinemas. It symbolised La Résistance and indeed the fight against all forms of oppression. It was passed on, hand to hand, across America and Europe, recited on the radio and learnt by heart by many of the RAF parachutists. It brought hope to a country and a people living under the oppression of Vichy and the German occupation.
In 1952 when Paul Éluard died, his editor friend, publisher and fellow resistance fighter, Pierre Seghers, wanted to honour his lost friend. It was then that Seghers approached Éluard very good friend, Leger, and asked him to illustrated the poem to be printed as a homage to a man who always used his poetry to fight for Liberty, Freedom.
After the attacks in Paris of 13th November 2015, which caused the deaths of many more than 100 people, this poem was posted outside the Pompidou Centre. My new novel THE LOST GIRL takes place in Paris over that horrendous weekend and also in post WWII Provence. So, finding this poem at this time is particularly poignant to me.
Here is the poem:
LIBERTY - Paul Éluard.
On my notebooks from school
On my desk and the trees
On the sand on the snow
I write your name
On every page read
On all the white sheets
Stone blood paper or ash
I write your name
On the golden images
On the soldier’s weapons
On the crowns of kings
I write your name
On the jungle the desert
The nests and the bushes
On the echo of childhood
I write your name
On the wonder of nights
On the white bread of days
On the seasons engaged
I write your name
On all my blue rags
On the pond mildewed sun
On the lake living moon
I write your name
On the fields the horizon
The wings of the birds
On the windmill of shadows
I write your name
On each breath of the dawn
On the ships on the sea
On the mountain demented
I write your name
On the foam of the clouds
On the sweat of the storm
On dark insipid rain
I write your name
On the glittering forms
On the bells of colour
On physical truth
I write your name
On the wakened paths
On the opened ways
On the scattered places
I write your name
On the lamp that is drowned
On my house reunited
I write your name
On the bisected fruit
Of my mirror and room
On my bed’s empty shell
I write your name
On my dog greedy tender
On his listening ears
On his awkward paws
I write your name
On the sill of my door
On familiar things
On the fire’s sacred stream
I write your name
On all flesh that’s in tune
On the brows of my friends
On each hand that extends
I write your name
On the glass of surprises
On lips that attend
High over the silence
I write your name
On my ravaged refuges
On my fallen lighthouses
On the walls of my boredom
I write your name
On passionless absence
On naked solitude
On the marches of death
I write your name
On health that’s regained
On danger that’s past
On hope without memories
I write your name
By the power of the word
I regain my life
I was born to know you
And to name you
Men have died for the rights that are being threatened by the FN. It is our duty to speak out against them and honour those who gave their energy for our Liberty.
www.caroldrinkwater.com
5 comments:
Bravo!
And thank you. Beautiful poem.
Great article, Carol. I really enjoyed reading it - as I always do. What a beautiful find. It's a fabulous poem. The repetition of 'sur' and 'j'écris ton nom' have high impact and I can feel the rumblings of Revolution! Thank you for sharing.
Vive la liberte, indeed. I'm not totally enthusiastic about Macron, but it's crucial to keep a neo-Fascist out. Only tragic that we should have these ugly creeds poking their heads up once again. As Brendan Cox said, writing in the Guardian on Tuesday; every generation has the job of holding onto crucial values and keeping at bay those who would devalue them and destroy human rights.
I pray your country does better than USA did.
Lovely piece and lovely poem - and fingers crossed for the next stage of the election.
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