chemin creux


chemin creux

passer by parler
sous le toit des feuilles venteuses
like dr beak waggsd

(Martin Burr)

Passer par parler

Petite forêt accueillante
fraîcheur, verdure, chant des oiseaux
à quelques pas seulement des cultures de mais

chemin creux
qui sent le lierre
et la menthe sauvage

branche morte mon siege et ma balançoire devenir bosquet
chemin creux maison dans le paysage

corridor de fuite un abri a protection particularité sundgovienne
tant d’attaques tant de guerres

rien à craindre sauf d’être l’Autre courir ver le village
la synagogue

space d’échange between vie horizontale et vie verticale between chemin, pré et forêt
l’ortie is pure.

(Victor Saudan)


Gaschtfrdlichs waldli
früschi, grüeni, vogelgsang
it few footsteps from the cornfield

hello gass
it tastes like ivy and wild coins

dead-asht my seat and mys gygampfi would become a forest
hohli gass huus in dr landscape

fugitive shelter shelter sundgau peculiarity
so much i attack so much i chrieg

use z’fefechte usser dr Anderi z’y to the dörfli Ronne
d’synagogue

place for uustusch between wogrächtm and sänkrächtm läbe between weg, fäld and forest
d’brönnessle syni queen.

(Victor Saudan)


Here I am sitting by the side of the road. Can you see me? You are reading what I am writing now. I imagine you. you imagine me

The magic is in the imagination.
Let’s be touched by the situation!
My butt gets wet and cold. It’s early April. Later there will be undergrowth here, now I’m sitting in last year’s copse.
I’ve been careful where I sit. This path is mainly used by dogs and their owners.
The forest behind me is alive. The many birds in it characterize the atmosphere. In front of me, in the distance, I see a row of detached houses, trees and – a pastel sky in soft gray tones that sometimes give way to a little light blue.
If I look down the tree-lined path towards the village, I see children doing laps on their bicycles. They are curious, circling higher and higher towards me.
Now an airplane pulls up and over everything, with a loud noise that breaks through everything.

Now it’s over, only a rumbling hangs in the air, it fades away very slowly. The chirping of the birds can be heard again.
I never understood why planes are allowed to make so much noise.

When there is too much noise, the birds and people fall silent because they can no longer hear each other.
Below, at the first house, where the paved road begins, no more circles are drawn with bicycles. Instead, a bigger boy lets a remote-controlled model car curve around him and a little boy, who has just learned to walk, stomps and stumbles behind the car until he falls. His weeping penetrates the chirping to my ears.

(Mimi von Moss)