Aggiornamento: 21 dic 2020
This book is a rare treat! As is written in the preface: These poems were found by madame Beaucorps in Strasbourg in the late Professor Gustav Leberwurst’s attic. The book gathers together the scattered writings of the Oise Salon. As such it is the only collection of the Oise Poètes available - worldwide!
Unfortunately information on the Oise Salon poets is hard to find in any French literary dictionary. The leader of the Oise movement was undoubtedly Guillaume Chèquespierre, author of such plays as „Messieurs Forts Messieurs“ or „Rome et Eau, Anjou Layette“.
But Chèquespierre felt bored with his native Stratte-Forte sur Avonne and tried his luck in Paris. Once there, he was soon joined by other authors equally bored, such as: Jean Quittce, Henri Longuevélo, A. Lefrette d’Enisonne, Guillaume Bléque, G. Veuseveute, B. Jeansonne, or S. Colleriche. But then they had a wonderful time.
The topics of the Oise Salon Poètes are simple, straightforward, never complicated. They write of eggs and of garlic, of donkeys, of braces, and of haymaking.
The poems are written to be read aloud. Should anybody not be familiar with the Oise dialect, an English translation is included here.
There are also footnotes to every poem. (But those who need them should consult a psychiatrist so they are not included here).
Tout pille or, note, tout pille, date hisse de caisse tiens!
Où est d’air tisse n’eau bleue Inde mainte? Tous ouverts
De silence, Anne d’arrosse offerte rageuse forte jaune
Or; tout teck âme sagène, c’est ta si oeuf trop bel ce.
Anne bâilleur pose en gaine d’aime.
Translation from the original Oise dialect:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?
William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Noue — y ce devine! Terre oeuf ourdit, ce corne teinte
M’aide clore rieuse; sous mer bâille, dise sonne oeuf
Ah os! Ah os! Maille qui ne d’homme fourra os!
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
William Shakespeare, Richard III
Art phallique, art phallique,
art phallique en ouate!
Or Lin de va lit oeuf dettes,
rôde de sexe; un d’arrête
For ouate; de l’ail te Brie gai de.
Char je fort de gonze y s’aide.
Indu de va lit oeuf dettes,
rôde de sexe, un d’arrêté.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of death
Rode the six hundred.
Forward the light brigade
Charge for the guns he said.
Into the valley of death
Rode the six hundred.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Seau huile Gounod; Moreau rôt vine
Seau lait teins-tu de naiade
D’odeur art te bis t’île as le vine
Ane démon bis t’île as brailles-te.
Laure De Bailleronne
So we’ll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
Unfortunately Hulmes’ wonderful Oise collection has become very rare. A reprint would be most welcome. For the time being any spare copy is highly recommended.
***The drawing is taken from Lina Giusti, famous illustrator of sundry Shakespearean aspects.
H.M.S - Merlin