She Says

she says\ \ By VÉNUS KHOURY-GHATA \ Graywolf Press\ Copyright © 2003 Vénus Khoury-Ghata (French)\ All right reserved.\ \ Chapter One\ Les mots je le sais maintenant déclamaient du vent à lé'poque à part les cailloux il y avait des lunes mais pas de lampes les étoiles sortirent plus tard d'une empoignade entre deux silex \ Cinq cailloux pour tout vous dire un par continent assez vaste pour contenir un enfant de couleur différente\ Il y avait donc cinq enfants mais pas de maisons des fenêtres mais pas de murs du vent mais pas de rues le premier homme portait une pierre autour du cou\ Il fit un arrangement avec le premier arbre un chêne si mes souvenirs sont bons celui qui arrivait avant l'autre buvait l'océan\ Le langage en ce temps-là était une ligne droite réservée aux oiseaux la lettre "i" fente de colibri femelle "h" échelle à une seule marche nécessaire pour remplacer avant la nuit un soleil grillé "o" trou dans la semelle de l'univers\ Contrairement aux consonnes aux vêtements rêches les voyelles étaient nues tout l'art du tissage consistait à ménager leur susceptibilité le soir elles se comptaient entre elles pour s'assurer qu'aucune ne manquait dans les pays caillouteux les hommes avaient un sommeil sans rêves\ In those days I know now words declaimed the wind besides pebbles there were moons but no lamps the stars would emerge later from a brawl between two flintstones\ I'll tell you everything there were five pebbles one for each continent vast enough to contain a child of a different color\ So there were five children but no houses windows but no walls wind but no streets the first man wore a stone around his neck\ He made an arrangement with the first tree an oak if I remember correctly the one who got there first could drink up the ocean\ Language at that time was a straight line reserved for birds the letter "i" was the cleft of a female hummingbird "h" a ladder with one rung necessary to replace a charred sun before nightfall "o" a hole in the sole of the universe\ Unlike the consonants with their rough garments the vowels were naked all the weaver's art consisted of humoring them in the evening they counted each other to make sure no one was missing in the rocky countries men slept without dreaming\ Les mots\ vol aveugle dans les ténèbres lucioles tournoyant sur elles-mêmes cailloux dans la poche du mort distrait projectiles contre lemur du cimetière ils se disloquent en alphabets mangent une terre différente dans chaque continent.\ Aleph souffle de droite à gauche pour effacer dunes et chameliers qui comptent les étoiles la tête dans le sable douze lois de suite Ainsi\ C'est dans la bassine du "Ba" qu'on lave le sang menstruel de la lune dans le cuivre pérenne quand les femmes sur les terrasses nocturnes font des vœeux irréfléhis\ "Tah" arpente une terre pauvre en herbe et en compassion seules comptent les gesticulations de l'ombre qui efface écrit efface érit pas et passants\ Il y a des alphabets de ville et des alphabets de champ Dis-moi quels mots tu emploies je te dirai le nombre de tes bovins\ Words\ blind flight in the darkness fireflies wheeling in on themselves pebbles in the pocket of an absentminded dead man projectiles against the cemetery wall they broke up into alphabets ate a different earth on each continent.\ Aleph breathes from right to left to erase dunes and camel drivers who count the stars with their heads in the sand twelve times in a row Thus\ It's in "Ba's" basin that the moon's menstrual blood is washed in the eternal copper when women on nocturnal terraces make rash vows\ "Tah" paces up and down land poor in grass and compassion all that counts are the gesticulations of the shadow which erases writes erases writes steps and passersby\ There are country alphabets and town alphabets Tell me what words you use I'll tell you the number of your cattle\ D'oú viennent les mots? de quel frottement de sons sont-ils nés à quel silex allumaient-ils leur mèche quels vents les ont convoyés jusqu'à nos bouches\ Leur passé est bruissement de silences retenus barrissement de matières en fusion grognement d'eaux mauvaises\ Parfois Ils s'étrécissent en cri se dilatent en lamentations deviennent buée sur les vitres des maisons mortes se cristallisent pépites de chagrin sur les lèvres mortes se fixent sur une étoile déchue creusent leur trou dans le rien aspirent les âmes égarées\ Les mots sont des larmes pierreuses les clés des portes initiales ils maugréaient dans les cavernes prêtaient leur vacarme aux tempêtes leur silence au pain enfourné vivant\ Where do words come from? from what rubbing of sounds are they born on what flint do they light their wicks what winds brought them into our mouths\ Their past is the rustling of stifled silences the trumpeting of molten elements the grunting of stagnant waters\ Sometimes they grip each other with a cry expand into lamentations become mist on the windows of dead houses crystallize into chips of grief on dead lips attach themselves to a fallen star dig their hole in nothingness breathe out strayed souls\ Words are rocky tears the keys to the first doors they grumble in caverns lend their ruckus to storms their silence to bread that's ovened alive\ Comment trouver le nom du pêcheur qui ferra le premier mot de la femme qui le réchauffa sous son aisselle ou de celle qui le prenant pour un caillou le lança sur un chien errant?\ que savons-nous des alphabets de sable enfouis sous les pieds des caravanes devenus silice éclats de verre vénérés par les chameliers comme débris d'étoile?\ Faut-il interroger les dénudeurs des dunes les vents sans foi ni loi qui déterrent les ossements puis jettent leur craie à la lune qui blanchit le tendre et le sec ou feuilleter les strates des falaises à la recherche du chasseur UN qui visa au lance-pierres le premier chiffre l'enferma dans une cage et lui apprit à chanter jusqu'à dix\ Son chant alluma la première bougie C'est à la flamme que nous devons les premières superstitions: "Trois bougies alignés annoncent une dispute" "Quatre cierges autour d'une couche appellent la mort"\ Chasseur et pêcheur étaient fixes à l'époque seul le temps marchait celui qui n'aimait pas mourir enfermait un soleil dans son puits la fortune d'un homme s'évaluait au nombre de ses ouvertures une touffe de genêt surmontait la caverne du notable sa vie se mesurait par le nombre de femmes enrobées de son odeur sa poussière le dit\ How to find the name of the fisherman who hooked the first word of the woman who warmed it in her armpit or of the one who mistook it for a pebble and threw it at a stray dog?\ what do we know of the alphabets of sand buried beneath the feet of caravans turned into silica shards of glass venerated by the camel drivers as star-debris?\ Must we question those who strip the dunes those winds lawless and faithless which unearth men's bones then throw their chalk at the moon which bleaches the tender and the dry must we leaf through the cliffs' layers in search of the FIRST hunter who fired the first number at a stone-thrower shut him up in a cage and taught him how to sing up to ten\ His song lit the first candle It's to that flame that we owe the first superstitions: "Three lit candles mean there'll be a quarrel" "Four tapers around a bed call death down"\ Hunter and fisherman were rooted at that time only time walked those who didn't like dying shut a sun up in their wells a man's fortune was measured by the number of his openings a tuft of broom grew over the dignitary's cave his life was measured by the number of women wrapped in his odor his dust says so\ L'homme prudent accrochait sa famille à sa ceinture la mode le voulait la lune n'était qu'un réflexe du soleil qui plongeait deux lois de suite dans le même puits la première pour se laver la deuxième pour déplacer son poids d'eau et de bruit le froid l'étrécissait aux dimensions d'une pomme se hisser sur la pointe des pieds suffisait pour le cueillir l'été le dilatait d'un horizon à l'autre le ciel était son hamac renversé\ Soleil était le nora du premier coq lune celui de la première poule le pain à portée de main de la lune disparaissait selon le chasseur son coq devenu aphone il se désintéressa du calendrier le temps s'écrivit alors au brouillon on tirait les années à courte paille la nuit lejour sejouaient à pile ou face le basilic décidait de tout\ The prudent man looped his family to his belt that was the fashion the moon was only a reflex of the sun which dived into the same well twice the first time to wash itself the second time to displace its weight of water and noise the cold squeezed it to the size of an apple one could pluck it merely by standing on tiptoe summer stretched it from one horizon to another the sky was its hammock turned upside down\ Sun was the name of the first rooster moon that of the first hen bread within the moon's reach disappeared according to the hunter his rooster gone hoarse he lost interest in the calendar then time was written in a rough draft they drew straws for the years night and day tossed a coin heads or tails the basil decided everything\ Le langage en ce temps-là faisait feu de tout bruit Il arpentait les pâturages à la recherche de pousses sonores qu'il broutait de droite à gauche par ordre d'intonations Jamais plus d'un pâturage avant la grande transhumance sur les sommets de l'alphabet où le parler se fait rare\ L'odeur sucrée du chèvrefeuille attirait les lettres juvéniles et les abeilles\ B revenait la bouche barbouillée de mûres F titubait à force d'avoir fumé l'herbe du diable son échelle sur le dos H prétendait avoir escaladé le tour du son\ Dans les pays froids les lettres mâles étalent poilues L'eau était la méditation de la terre sa pensée intime divulguée au grand jour son parler caillouteux Le ruisseau se lisait à voix haute la mer répétait la même phrase de continent à continent\ Il y avait des mots à comes et à plumes et des mots convenablement vêtus nus étaient ceux chassés du paradis parce qu'ils manquèrent de pudeur Ils errent à la recherche d'un miroir où pénétrer avec l'approbation du tain leur présence est signalée par un tremblement de la lumière par un cliquetis de verre lorsqu'ils s'alignent sur les rambardes des fenêtres les enfants peureux les appellent les vitreurs On se marie avec les roots de sa langue pour se stabiliser les voyages c'est pour les autres qui empruntent les lignes comme on prend le train\ Language at that time opened fire on every noise It paced up and down the pastures in search of sound-sprouts on which it grazed from right to left in order of their intonations Never more than one pasture before the great seasonal migration to the peaks of the alphabet where speech is rare\ The sugared odor of the honeysuckle attracted young letters and bees\ B came back with its mouth bearded with blackberries F was staggering from having smoked devil's weed its ladder on its back, H pretended to have scaled the sound barrier\ In cold countries the male letters were hairy Water was the earth's meditation its intimate thoughts revealed in the light of day its pebbly dialect The stream read itself out loud the sea repeated the same sentence from continent to continent\ \ Continues...\ \ \ \ Excerpted from she says by VÉNUS KHOURY-GHATA Copyright © 2003 by Vénus Khoury-Ghata (French). Excerpted by permission.\ All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.\ Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. \ \

IntroductionWordsIn those days - I know now - words declaimed the wind5Words7Where do words come from?9How to find the name of the fisherman who hooked the first word11The prudent man looped his family to his belt13Language at that time opened fire on every noise15What do we know about the alphabets which didn't survive the rising of the waters17The words which spring up on the borders of lips retain their terrors19Words, she says, used to be wolves21Words, she says, are like the rain - everyone knows how to make them23It was there and nowhere else25The rain had few followers at that time27Guilty of repeated forgetfulness29There are words from poor peoples' gardens that crossbreed iron and thorns31She SaysThere were too many women for too few seasons35She says / dig there where a shadow can stand upright37The wind in the fig there quiets down when she speaks39She only opens her door to the winds41Between her two windows is a mirror43Without the wisteria45Drunken bread on the table47On the dark landing of her dreams49The frost that year shattered both the indoors and outdoors51He shakes her so she'll drop the words she stole53Her voice comes back to her from the canary's cage55In her dreams she thinks she is awake57Seated on her doorstep made of deaf stones59She lives in a high room next door to the clouds61Autumn preceded summer by one day63The dead she says65Spitting in the wind brings happiness she says67She carried her load of fog in all kinds of weather69There is winter in her sleep71She says / migrating birds won't replace the road73The dignitary who bent his servant backwards till the storm was extinguished75She says / there is a fire on the moon77She tells her dreams to the angels who inadvertently cross her bed79First / she kills the red hen that traces circles around her field81Her walls and her bones aged together83She puts her ear to the ground to listen to the buried voices clamor85She understands from the plane trees staring in shock at the countryside87She places her hands on the apple tree's hands89She says / the names of the months are closed up in books91Her house is a burial ground for mute objects93Winter is painful to her95It has snowed on her bed since her mirror contested the window97The old woman has the deafened mourning of those who live on stones99God will forgive me for having let the house wander away says the old woman101It took her years to understand the wind's behavior103At that time the earth was so high up105Someone is speaking within the walls107Stretched out close to the tree which breathes beside her109Plowing at night means one less loaf from each furrow she says111Once upon a time she had a book113Her laundry will soak all night beneath the moon which washes hilltops115Between twilight and crumbled bread117From rails buried beneath the rubble119A while odor of woman and declining summer stops them121She opens her door without hesitation to the elm leaf on her threshold123In the night of boxes they give up their linens125The old man who doesn't know how to count127The old man who left his shadow on the tracks129The fire which ravaged the last comet stretched out at the saint's shrine131They say / that he has blood under his fingernails133He told stories the way you peel a fruit135There were tree of them who emerged from the night137The wind she says is only good for tousling the broom-bushes139The children knocked on every door141She says / the earth is so vast143They come from the same slope not the same hill145It sometimes happens that the forest disperses itself147A man is not an island149Storks have been nesting in the church font151The caravan that left the old town of Manama disappeared153She prefers round years155One day she says157Why I Write in French159

\ Publishers Weekly"Living in Lebanon, I wouldn't have written books; I would have had children cooked" writes Parisian ex-pat Venus Khoury-Ghata as a partial answer to why she writes in French. She Says, translated and introduced by Marilyn Hacker, comprises two poem sequences, "She Says/ Elle Dit" and "Words/ Les Mots," presented with French en face, while "Their voices alone pass through all obstacles." Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.\ \