Toujours sur le qui-vive, nous échangions par gestes référencés pour évaluer la menace et prévenir l'agression. Dans l'intimité, c'était un langage de mains, de toucher, de caresses ou de coups, parfois ponctué de grognements ou de cris outragés.
Je suis venue au monde sous une lune gibbeuse, et nouveau-née déjà, je riais sur la mousse. À peine ai-je ouvert les yeux, dans la lumière du petit matin, que j'ai perçu les notes perlées de la rosée s'échapper en cadence.
Enfant, je guettais la voix des quatre vents dans les branches feuillues. Bercée le jour par les stridulations des insectes et le ramage des oiseaux, je bruissais la nuit. Couchée sur le dos, je sifflais sans cesse, et comme dans le black nul ne pouvait me voir, les oiseaux diurnes s'en trouvaient désorientés.
I don't have access to the French version of the high school age, which now distinguishes the chants of rossignol, merle, pie and rouge-gorge. Je ne faisais pas que les imiter, j'en comprenais le sens. When the two of us have a fear of terreur and entendant of the defense of the fauve, we complied with the lion's appeal that they were small. Le brame du cerf dans la nuit m'attirait irresistiblement. Des lémuriens j'imitais le cri d'alerte, tournée vers le ciel, et je m'amusais de les voir détaler jusque dans leurs terriers. Comme l'éléphant j'ai appris à écouter with mes pieds les échos de la terre, et me oreilles retenaient the caquètement muet de l'écureuil des plaines.
All the animals know the language, and the language is clear. Cris de reconnaissance, de défiance, de provocation ou d'attirance. Je savais also que s'ils gardaient le silence, un silence porté par la soif, la faim ou la solitude, c'était qu'il n'y avait rien à en dire. Ils n'avaient pas la nécessité d'évoquer leurs existences, ils naissaient avec leur savoir et n'avaient pas à se justifier d'être, il leur fallait juste vivre et mourir pour enrichirir ir ancestral memory.
Je n'étais pas comme eux.
Bartabas, Les cantiques du corbeau (Gallimard, 2022).
We were always on our guard and communicated through gestures to assess the threat and prevent an attack. Within our close circle, it was a language of hands, of touches, caresses, or blows, sometimes punctuated by growls or indignant cries.
I was born during a waxing moon, and even as a newborn I laughed on the moss. The moment I opened my eyes in the early morning light, I heard the pearly notes of the dew escaping in rhythm.
As a child, I listened in the leafy branches for the voice of the four winds. By day, I was lulled to sleep by the chirping of insects and the twittering of birds; at night, I made noises myself. Lying on my back, I whistled incessantly, and since no one could see me in the dark, I confused the diurnal birds.
I hadn't yet crossed the threshold of maturity, but I could already distinguish the songs of the nightingale, the blackbird, the magpie, and the robin. I not only imitated them but also understood their meaning. While my family froze in terror at the roar of a predator, I felt for a lioness calling for her cubs. The bellowing of a stag at night held an irresistible attraction. I mimicked the warning call of lemurs, turned to the sky, and was amused to watch them flee to their burrows. Like the elephant, I learned to listen to the earth's echo with my feet, and my ears captured the silent chatter of the squirrel.
I mastered the language of all animals, their language, which consisted of cries. Cries of recognition, distrust, provocation, or attraction. I also knew that there was nothing to say when they were silent—a silence born of thirst, hunger, or loneliness. They had no desire to speak of their existence; they came into the world with their knowledge and did not have to justify their being. They simply had to live and die to enrich their ancestral memory.
I wasn't like them. 1
This article is written in German and can be found at https://rentree.de. Automatic translations into English and French are available. English, French.
Notes- “‘At night the beast looks at me, and I read noble stories in its eyes, songs that invite me on a journey.’ With the twenty-two songs from which this Cantiques du corbeau (“Songs of the Raven”), Bartabas offers a fantastical tale about the origins of humankind. In a dreamlike prehistory where humans and animals are one, alternating between prey and predator, we see how humankind acquires the skills that lead it to subjugate the earth and the animal kingdom. A beautifully poetic meditation on humanity's place among living beings.” (Translation from the publisher's announcement.)>>>
