Peter Rose (Australie)

 

Peter Rose

Poète australien, né le 8 juin 1955 à Melbourne. Il grandit à Wangaratta, puis obtient une licence ès lettres de l'université de Monash en 1976. Après avoir exercé le métier de libraire pendant plusieurs années, il travaille aujourd'hui pour l'Oxford University Press. Il a publié trois recueils à ce jour : le premier en 1990, The House of Vitriol, suivi en 1993 par The Catullan Rag, qui dépeint le quotidien ordinaire d'une vie urbaine et enfin, en 1998, Donatello in Wangaratta, inspiré de ses différents voyages en Europe et aux Etats-Unis. Depuis 1990, ses oeuvres ont été maintes fois récompensées ; il a obtenu entre autres le Harri Jones Awards décerné par l'université de Newcastle en 1991, puis le Queensland Premier's Prize à deux reprises, en 1991 et 1992.

 

GREENING

Let's not watch the main event,
let's watch the people.
There we shall be beautifully private,
each lake with its own suicide,
those grand disclosures
aching on a beach.
Your beauty is the last quotation,
an available dark.
In the forest, single lights flicker,
day rapturously evokes night.
Soon we shall descend
into the public acre,
a rhapsodist will forfeit
his throne by the view.
So let's postpone matter for a while:
the ritual caper, an auspicious turn.

(Donatello in Wangaratta, Anexandria, NSW, © Peter Rose - Hale & Iremonger, 1998, p. 11)


SITTING DUCKS

How delicate, the translator.
Can you think for him? she cranes,
sensibly clothed against memory,
springtime knottings and burrs.
Can you feel for him? -
statistics in a light plane
casting a dubious shadow.
Glamorously the sun disappears,
though we expect more, always,
and copious moons to filigree doubt,
doubt that haunts like a mohair self.
Beauty has so far to go,
so much to tell us.
Now it leads us round the lake,
who are deaf sometimes, and fractious,
as any body of water
is shored with a variety of injuries,
complicit, fond of self-pity.
Happily, these bundles of birds
replicate the longest necked,
dipping when they do,
bobbing through history.
Like sequent poplars they blacken.
Pines too take their time,
alternating in sighs.
Pastels by the water deepen
into significance, a new ennui -
those tenuous, eventual conditions:
progenity, or any twilight.

(Donatello in Wangaratta, Anexandria, NSW, © Peter Rose - Hale & Iremonger, 1998, p. 38)