by Louis Aragon, from Fou d' Elsa

Vainement ton image arrive à ma rencontre
Et ne m'entre où je suis qui seulement la montre
Toi te tournant vers moi tu ne saurais trouver
Au mur de mon regard que ton ombre rêvée

Je suis ce malheureux comparable aux miroirs
Qui peuvent réfléchir mais ne peuvent pas voir
Comme eux mon æil est vide et comme eux habité
De l'absence de toi qui fait sa cécité

In vain your image comes to meet me
And does not enter me where I am who only show it
Turning towards me you can find
On the wall of my gaze only your dreamt-of shadow.

I am that wretch comparable with mirrors
That can reflect but cannot see
Like them my eye is empty and like them inhabited
By your absence which makes them blind.

 

 

 

*all this dialectical me/you stuff is crucial to the readings I'm doing of The House in Paris, Good Morning Midnight, Between the Acts, The Weather in the Streets, etc. (I'm way more excited about pronouns right now than I ever though I'd be.**) If there are any die-hard Lacanians reading this, please get in touch– I'd love to bounce some ideas off of someone who really knows what they're talking about.

 

** I'd be more than happy to discuss my all-consuming interest in pronouns on the blog, if you really want to hear about it. But if you don't, which is perfectly understandable, I'll save it for the 5 or 6 people who will read my dissertation.