Thursday, May 27, 2010

Je t'aime Mama

        While looking throughout my old piles of school papers, I came across this poem “Je t’aime Mama”.  As far as I can remember, this is my very first poem. I wrote it when I was about eight years old in my “class d’ecriture”.  We had a little presentation in which every student was required to share a story with his peers.
         Reading this poem, I have realized how fast I have grown and how much I have changed; it brings to me the nostalgia of my childhood in Conakry (enough with me and nostalgia). Below, I have typed it exactly as I the poem on the paper. I have also tried to translate it from the French to the English as accurately as I could. I hope you enjoy it. Please, leave a comment if you would like to share your childhood experience with the readers of this blog and myself.


             Je t’aime Mama
      Écrite par  Mory Keita

Je t’aime au profond de mon Cœur Mama.
Je t'aime Mama plus que le monde,
Tu es la lumière qui éclaire ma vie,
Je sais que tu j’aime aussi.

Je t'aime Mama plus que les étoiles,
Tu es celle qui me guide et que j'adore,
Et tu es belle, grande et  gentille.
Je sais que tu j’aime aussi.

Je t'aime aujourd’hui et je t'aimerai pour toujours,
Je t’aime dans mes rêves et cauchemars,
Tu es ma Mama bien aimée.

English translation

I Love You Mama

I love you deep within my Heart Mama.
I love you Mama more than the world,
You're the light that illuminates my life,
I know you too love me.

Mama I love you more than the stars, 

you are the one that guides me and one I love, 
and you are beautiful, big and nice.
I know you love me too.

I love you today and I will love you forever.
I love you in my dreams and nightmares,
You are my beloved Mama.


Monday, May 24, 2010

To be "cool"

         By Mory Keita

To be cool like the old gangsters:
Put your pants down the butt,
Become a loud desperate attention seeker,
A know-everything fellow,
A tabloids lover and books’ nemesis,
Listen to rap and senseless music,
Wear in vogue sneakers and T-shirts,
Be clueless about the world,
Become rude to any one different from you,
Utter profanities non-stop,
Enjoy your life and nothing else,
Cut school on a weekly basis,
Make cool friends not nerds and geeks,
Party at least twice a week,
Go along with the fun and give up anything boring,
Smoke marijuana, drink alcohol to feel high,
Try to fit in as much as you can,
Look your best under the sky,                             
Hang out with friends the whole day,
Think about the present and it only,
Go home at 1:30 am and then ask yourself,
“What have I done with my day?”


Thursday, May 20, 2010

A place beneath the tree

              By Mory Keita

Where is that place beneath the tree?
That temple of wisdom where knowledge
Flourish and falls like summer’s leaves,
And existence has a proper significance.

Where is that lost paradise my heart seeks?
There, Pythagoras and Archimedes discuss
 Symmetries of nature and beauty of shapes;
Plato, Aristotle, Socrates and great thinkers
Question the purpose of life itself.

That is the place I wish, that is the world I have lost.
Adam and Eve lost the Garden of Eden and did not find it again,
Will I find again that place beneath the tree?
Till that day, I shall find solace in this  foolish world.



Sunday, May 2, 2010

On vit, on parle

Here is a poem of the great French  writer , philosopher and poet, Victor Hugo's " On vit,on parle". This poem's beauty reside in its simplicity and its humorous tone.
the last three lines of the poem are particularity very striking. It basically speaks about life hills and valleys, its beauties and sorrows.I hope you enjoy it as much as i do.

               On vit , on parle...
                          By Victor Hugo

On vit, on parle, on a le ciel et les nuages 
Sur la tête ; on se plaît aux livres des vieux sages ; 
On lit Virgile et Dante ; on va joyeusement 
En voiture publique à quelque endroit charmant, 
En riant aux éclats de l'auberge et du gîte ; 
Le regard d'une femme en passant vous agite ; 
On aime, on est aimé, bonheur qui manque aux rois ! 
On écoute le chant des oiseaux dans les bois 
Le matin, on s'éveille, et toute une famille 
Vous embrasse, une mère, une soeur, une fille ! 
On déjeune en lisant son journal. Tout le jour 
On mêle à sa pensée espoir, travail, amour ; 
La vie arrive avec ses passions troublées ; 
On jette sa parole aux sombres assemblées ; 
Devant le but qu'on veut et le sort qui vous prend, 
On se sent faible et fort, on est petit et grand ; 
On est flot dans la foule, âme dans la tempête ; 
Tout vient et passe ; on est en deuil, on est en fête ; 
On arrive, on recule, on lutte avec effort... -- 
Puis, le vaste et profond silence de la mort !