Michel Butor

LE VEAU (BOEUF) ECORCHE

Language: french

Translations: german (DAS ABGEHÄUTETE OCHSENKALB), italian (Il vitello scuoiato)

LE VEAU (BOEUF) ECORCHE

in memoriam Marc Chagall
C’est un boucher céleste
qui vient de sacrifier
l’animal qui s’abreuve
avec son propre sang
son œil rouge est ouvert
comme pour nous narguer
sa peau s’est déroulée
pour recouvrir la nuit

A travers les pignons
du village transi
on voit s’interroger
les couples affamés
les oiseaux affolés
cherchent à s’échapper
sur la neige des toits
ou le verglas des ruelles

Les larmes de sa graisse
nourrissent les chandelles
qui répandent leur lueur
de pourpre et de savon
sur les sommeils troublés
dans les chambres étroites
ou devant les autels
des églises désertes

Le martyre animal
crucifié dans la nuit
répand sur notre exil
sa réconciliation
réchauffant notre cœur
dans la déréliction
où nous avaient laissés
prophètes et parents

Nous le dévorerons
pour acquérir sa force
sa patience et ses cornes
qui s’illumineront
et les cieux s’ouvriront
délivrés des couteaux
pour fondre notre neige
et brûler notre sang

Janvier 2003

Translations:

Language: german

DAS ABGEHÄUTETE OCHSENKALB

in memoriam Marc Chagall

Es ist ein himmlischer Schlächter
der eben das Tier geopfert hat
das seinen Durst
mit dem eigenen Blut löscht
sein rotes Auge steht offen
wie um uns zu verhöhnen
seine Haut hat sich abgewickelt
um die Nacht zu bedecken

Durch die Giebelwände
des erstarrten Dorfes
sieht man die hungrigen Paare
wie sie sich ausfragen
die aufgescheuchten Vögel
versuchen zu entkommen
über die schneebeeckten Dächer
oder das Glatteis der Gassen

Die Tränen seines Fetts
nähren die Kerzen
die ihren Schein von Purpur
und Seife verströmen
über den gestörten Schlaf
in den engen Gemächern
oder vor den Altären
der verlassenen Kirchen

Das Märtyrer-Tier
gekreuzigt bei Nacht
breitet seine Versöhnung
über unser Exil aus
die uns das Herz erwärmt
in der Vereinsamung
worin wir Propheten und Eltern
hinterlassen hatten

Wir werden es verschlingen
um seine Kraft zu erwerben
seine Geduld seine Hörner
die erstrahlen werden
und die Himmel werden sich auftun
erlöst von den Messern
um unsern Schnee zu schmelzen
und unser Blut zu verbrennen

Michel Butor,
Januar 2003

Language: italian

Il vitello scuoiato

in memoriam Marc Chagall

È un macellaio celeste
che ha già sacrificato
l’animale che si abbevera
del suo proprio sangue
con quell’ occhio rosso aperto
come per dileggiarci
con la sua pelle srotolata
a coprire la notte.
Attraverso i piloni
del villaggio raggelato
si vedono le coppie
interrogarsi affamate
gli uccelli affollati
che cercan di sfuggire
sulla neve dei tetti
o il ghiaccio delle viuzze.
Le lacrime del suo grasso
nutrono le candele
che spandono un chiarore
di porpora e sapone
sui sonni turbati
nelle camere anguste
o davanti agli altari
delle chiese deserte.
Il martire animale
crocifisso di notte
spande sul nostro esilio
la sua conciliazione
scaldando il nostro cuore
nello stesso abbandono
in cui ci hanno lasciati
profeti e genitori.
Noi lo divoreremo
per prenderne la forza
la possanza e le corna
che s’illumineranno
e i cieli si apriranno
liberi dai coltelli
a scioglier la nostra neve
e bruciare il nostro sangue.
Gennaio 2003

Michel Butor

photo © private

* 14.09.1926, Mons-en-Barœul, France
† 24.08.2016, Contamine-sur-Arve, France

Michel Butor was born on September 14, 1926, in a suburb of Lille, France. His father, Emile Butor, worked in the administration of Chemins du fer du Nord, but was passionate about drawing, watercolor painting, and wood carving. In 1929, the Butor family moved to Paris where young Michel would complete all of his studies, except for 1939-1940, during the Phoney War, which he spent in Evreux.

Having been already been possessed by the “demon of writing” for some time, Michel Butor published his first novels through the French publisher Editions Minuit, with the help of his agent-manager Georges Lambrichs. He continued to travel, for both professional reasons and exploratory ones. He traveled to Greece and then Switzerland, where he met Marie-Jo who became his wife in 1958. Three daughters were not long to follow, as well as a fourth later on. This period in his life was characterized by literary awards, work at publishing houses, a bit of the Parisian lifestyle, conferences here and there, as well as several trips to the United States. After May ’68, Michel Butor decided to return to teaching in French universities. He moved to Nice after a year in the Far West of the United States. He was named professor of the faculté de lettres in Geneva.

His books accumulated, each one with a new surprise : essays, “narratives of daytime and nighttime,” poems, and new combinations of all of these. These all brought about the demise of a dull and routine mindset while his collaborations with painters, musicians, and photographers multiplied. He took trips to Japan, Australia, and China. Retired since 1991, he lived in a village in Haute-Savoie, France until his death in 2016.

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