Or L’infante De Salamanque…
I
Noli me tangere, telle est sa devise,
Et j’ai gardé la haute main sur la douceur.
Elle anime ses flancs. Cet œil qui me jauge
Est la sûre balance où peser mes pensées.
Ses pieds ont calmé la poussière, apaisé
Ma brûlure. La terre, en sagesse,
Lui ordonne de nous être favorable.
II
Sa bonté est confiante, sa patience, édifiante.
Pour faire le tour du monde, pour garder le Nord,
Navigateurs, protégez le divin astrolabe
Avec l’exquise étoffe de sa peau.
Vêtement des rois, asile des moines,
Ainsi habillons-nous l’orbe des planètes,
De la Croix-du-Sud à l’étoile du Berger.
Translations of this Poem
from Yet the Infanta of Salamanca…
I
Noli me tangere, that is his motto,
And I keep supreme control of the softness.
It rouses his flanks. This eye, that sizes me up,
The sound pair of scales to weigh up my thoughts.
His feet calmed the dust, brought relief
To my wound. The earth, wisely,
Orders him to be kind to us.
II
His kindness is confident, his patience edifying.
To travel round the world, to hold steady North,
Navigators, protect the divine astrolabe
With the exquisite material of his skin.
The cloth of kings, the haven of monks,
Thus do we dress the orbit of planets,
From the Southern Cross to the evening star.
About this poem
This poem, representing Chad, is part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.
