Louise DUPRÉ (Canada) is writer and literary critic who was born in the province of Quebec and lives in Montreal. She has published more than twenty books, including twelve collections of poetry, which received many awards. Both Plus haut que les flammes (Beyond the Flames) and La main hantée (The Haunted Hand) won the prestigious Governor General’s Award for poetry. Dupré is member of the Academy of Letters of Quebec and of the Royal Society of Canada. In December 2014, she was appointed to the Order of Canada for her contributions to Quebec literature as a poet, novelist, playwright, essayist and professor.
Beyond the Flames (Excerpts)
And you want to learn
to dance
on the charred rope
of words
here you are sheer will power
sheer goal, violent
determination
soaring
like an arrow
or love
too vast for you
here you are
ready to dance
beyond your fears
blinded and deaf
to the cracking in every sky
that collapsed
as soon as you knew how to read
(…)
you are dancing
the child against you breast
you are dancing
till the day
becomes dizziness
you are dancing a dance
that is proof
of faith
well organized charity
plea of plants
waiting
in the flower shop
a few ounces of water
to welcome the petals
you believe this is
a time
for comforting
the inconsolable flesh
of this grief
you have not been able
to place
in you
is not as a fault
reborn with each birthing
like a calling
surging from the ancestral
earth
as it vomits
its bowels
(…)
you keep dancing in the daytime
until the child in your arms
achieves greatness
his questions already
hurting
and your love
can never find an answer
you have neither advice
to give
nor earth to offer as promise
you are no prophet
and you know it
you’re a beggar
of joy
twisted and twisted
like Francis Bacon’s
red mouths
a meteorologist
on the look-out
in the eye of the hurricane
powerful ripping
out trees and dreams
but you will not tip over
and you keep dancing
with butterflies
hidden in your heart
for they found
no other place of safety
and you are strong
enough to welcome
the world
in perpetual mourning
which you carry and cradle
until you die
in spite of your tropical
heart
you have the rhythm it takes
to waltz this child
in the eye of the hurricane
time here
is blue and night
has stars
and you want to glimpse
up
above the walls
inside your eyes
and see the place where
faces are still
faces
and cities where sentences
survive beyond
your lips
there surely exists a syntax
for the language of softness
deep inside
your hurting breath
and beyond
tomstones
where the soil is fragile
and the dead awaken
and their voices
you hear
rising above
the complaints of humankind
like a physics
of pain
a science
memorized
prior to images fading within you
in spite of your tropical heart
you are not old enough
to learn the teachings
of the winds that circle around you
the winds circling
around you dancing
with this child and wild hope
provides answers
to earth’s murmurings
the earth waiting for
neither repentance nor prayer
as it returns to cycle
of seed
harvest
and humble water
poured over the spring season
circling as unction oil
on the forehead of the newborn
though frightened a hand
can resuscitate
the flesh of words
smothered
by dust
like a testament
of shadow
that you engraved
on your own flesh
the memory of the dead
needs a home
and memory asks you
for water
and a dance
and you invite it
to waltz with you and the child
drunk with joy
and the twirling
you widen
as you break
the unbreakable walls
of you fear
though the wind
and the volcanoes
might wreak vengeance on you
though you are exhauted
in your arms
there is a child looking into your eyes
even if you are not brave
you become a woman
of courage
a woman of open windows
who lets
the day boil over
you have bones stronger
than you imagined
that have not betrayed you
like you will never betray
the small universe
hanging from your neck
for here is mystery
laughing
begging you
never to stop
the dance
(Translated by Antonio D’Alfonso)
路易．杜普蕾（加拿大），作家和文學評論家，生於魁北克省，現居蒙特利爾，著有超過二十本書籍，其中十二本為詩集，獲獎無數。其詩集《火焰之外》和《鬼纏之手》圴獲得加拿大文學界的重要榮譽「總督獎」。杜普蕾是魁北克文學院院士和加拿大皇家協會院士。在2014年12月，杜普蕾獲頒發加拿大最高榮譽勛章，表彰她作為詩人、小說家、劇作家、散文家與教授，為魁北克文學作出的偉大貢獻。
高於火焰（節選）
而你想學
跳舞
在詞語的燒焦的
繩子上
瞧，你純粹的
心願，純粹的
打算，強悍的
決心
飛出去
像一支箭
或一場愛
太大了——對你
瞧，你已準備好
跳舞
克服那盲目的
無聲的恐懼
在天空的咔嚓聲中
天空斷裂
你聽得見
（……）
你跳舞，孩子
貼緊你的乳房
你們跳舞
直到讓白晝
暈頭轉向
你們跳著舞
像一次信仰的
立誓
一份命令好的慈悲
眾花的一種懇求
它們在商店裏
等待
一點點水
為了迎接
你相信
是時候了
去撫慰
這無從撫慰的肉體
這份痛楚
你從未弄明白
在你身上
它居於何處
或者居於某個錯誤
一次次重生
像一聲召喚
突然從祖先的土地
躥出
當土地下決心
再次吐出肺腑
（……）
你在白晝跳舞
直到孩子長大
在你的懷抱
他的問題
已經受傷
而你的愛
它無從回答
你沒有教訓
可給
沒有福地可許
你不是先知
這你知道
只是一個
幸福的乞討者
不停地扭曲
像一些嘴
紅色的弗朗西斯·培根
像一個氣象工作者
窺視
從一隻颶風的眼裏
颶風足以
扯斷樹和夢想
但你站得筆直
你跳舞
憑著藏在心間的
這些蝴蝶
因為找不到
別的避難所
瞧，你足夠強大
去迎接你身上的
世界
絕不哀傷
承載它，搖晃它
同你的生命活得一樣長
儘管你的心
熱烈
你仍有足夠的節奏
讓孩子在颶風中心
飛舞
因為此地時間
是藍色的，夜晚
攜著星星
而你想看到
高處
高於你眼瞳的
牆壁
你想看見那兒
那些臉仍然
同一些臉相似
而城市，像一些句子
不再在嘴唇之間
沉沒
一定有一種語法
把話說得溫柔
在你受傷的呼吸的
最幽微處
或者在滾落的
石頭前
當地面變得易碎
死者竟開始搖晃
在他們的聲音中
於是你聽到
對世界的怨言
脫落
像一具
痛苦的身體
像一門
可理解的科學
用你最後的形象
儘管你的心熱烈
你還不是太老——
可以給圍繞你的風
上一課
風圍繞你
你跳著舞
同孩子一起
同應答大地呢喃的
瘋狂的希望一起
大地不等待
內疚或祈禱
它想找回
播種和收穫的
節氣
還有撒向春天的
謙卑的水
還有抹在新生兒頭上
螺旋形的聖油
即使顫抖，一個手勢
仍然激活
詞語的身體
這些詞語窒息
在塵土下
像影子的
一份遺囑
你把它
刻進自己的肉裏
死者的記憶
尋找一處居所
它要求你
渴飲
跳舞
你讓它
同孩子一起旋轉
被這些人群的圓圈
所迷醉
你還想擴大圓圈
直到搖撼
你那恐懼的
無法摧毀的牆壁
不重要——
風或火山的
可能的復仇
不重要——
你疲憊的手臂
孩子正瞧著你
即使不英勇
你也成了
一位有勇氣的女性
一位敞開窗口的女性
有能力突破
白晝
你的骨頭比你想象的
更結實
它們還沒有背叛你
而你也沒有背叛
懸掛在你脖子上的
微形世界
像一種神秘
它笑著
挖掘你
並繼續
跳舞
（翻譯﹕樹才）