Looking Glass Language

a word bird reflects on life & language

out of the mouths of bébés…

anouka cat

“Je vais faire de bruite très calme, car j’aime le bruit très calme1.”  The musings of a French romantic poet? Victor Hugo, Théophile Gautier or Alfred de Musset, perhaps? No. The musings of a three-year old.

With her French artist / yoga teacher mother and English sax player father, the odds were high that Noukie (now nine) would be quirky and artistic. But her idiosyncratic, artistic, and at times esoteric take on the world seems more profound than that.

Seeing the dusty body of a pigeon lying in the gutter, its blue-grey feathers ruffling in the wind, she said “il est cassé, le pigeon” (it is broken, the pigeon): as though it were a broken toy she could no longer play with. Then, taking Pascale’s hand, she asked calmly, “Parle me encore de la mort” (speak to me more about death).

Observing her father shave, she said, “Le rasoir. Un truc pour râper les joues quand ca pique,” the prosaic razor described as a thing for grating men’s cheeks when they prickle.

Watching The Jungle Book, she gave a name to the anonymous yet beguiling girl from the village: “Elle est Mooglelle” –  the feminine (‘elle’) Moogli.

My partner and I hosted a wonderful dinner before moving to England last September, and Noukie came along with Pascale. When it was time to leave, she wept hot tears, and was inconsolable until I’d rocked her in my arms and promised that we’d still see each other. A few days later she wrote me a poem:

Anouka word

Elle est belle comme fleur

lisse, douce

embellie par le soleille

rayer comme les abeille

la plus belle ces elle

Quand elle paint en rouge

tout son art bouge

elle est une actrice

au bonne odeur d’épisse.

I want to be this person who is smooth, soft, calmed by the sun, clothed like the bees, with a generous scent of spices…

1. “Je vais faire de bruite très calme, car j’aime le bruit très calme,” roughly translates as ‘I’m going to make a very quiet noise, because I love the noise that’s very quiet…’

 

Single Post Navigation

5 thoughts on “out of the mouths of bébés…

  1. Oh my goodness, that is just so beautiful – smooth, soft, calmed by the sun, clothed like the bees, with a generous scent of spices… – I want to be that person too.

  2. Pingback: bullshit, horse-shit, testosterone & pee | Looking Glass Language

  3. Pingback: La Petite Princesse | Looking Glass Language

  4. Pingback: The Little Prince | Looking Glass Language

Comment here

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

@Mini.Munch the Blog

Every carrot, calorie and cow

Adventures of Hal

Fran, Gareth and friends explore the world on Hal, our 35ft yacht

Things I think about while I drive to work

Random topics and conversation about how I view the world I live in

Curiouser & Curiouser

My curious little blog.

Knowingly Undersold

Selling discount truths at an exorbitant price! (Wrap your mind around that one)

David Baker's Novel Factory

Novel = New, Work of Fiction: Fact + History = Factory

A Road Travelled Twice

Twice across Europe by bike and more

Mike and the Marathon

I’m running the 2013 London Marathon for ICAN

A Few Kind Words

adventures in language and life

'er-in(doors)*

a word bird reflects on life & language

Helen Weavers's Blog

Stuff I think about...

The Seatonist

Dreaming of waves...

Where's my ruby slippers?

There's no place like home. Especially if you don't live there.

fortewinks

Letters from London by Giovanna Forte

Fromage Homage

A British Isles Cheese Odyssey

%d bloggers like this: