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Petites chansons dans les carnets. Petrol est un auteur collectif. Petrol prend notre place. Au contraire. Chacun laissait ses textes aux autres auteurs. In , she is laureate of the Cross Channel Theatre. She performs and directs her last play, Poings , together with a circus-maker and a composer for. Her texts are published by the Solitaires Intempestifs. Samuel Pivo vit et travaille principalement entre Paris, Lyon et Toulouse. Ma Route est traduite en chinois. Elle y travaille sous la direction de Stuart Seide. L en octobre Benedetti, S. Rappeneau, V. Vellard, M. Marfaing, C.

Zimina, S. Druet, J. Schwartz, I Gontcharov, N. Gogol, O. Moukhina, E Mouravitsky, H. Haneke, T. Benisti, D. Duval, J. Birkin, N. Jahan, J. Koonen, R. Bouchareb, C. Le Piccolo Teatro de Milan produit, en , Blondi. Un extrait de Respire! Depuis , elle accompagne les projets de Ludovic Lagarde.

Les Petits matins. Cette proposition poursuit ses recherches sur les conditions de perception et les variations entre voir et percevoir. Dormeurs, dormeuses, Halle Roublot, Fontenay sous bois. Production ARTE. Festival Cannes Festival de Locarno. Gerard Watkins was born in London in He wrote his first song in and his first play in Since he has been working alternatively as actor playwrite, director, translator, and musician. He has directed his theatre company since the Perdita Ensemble and has directed all of his plays.

Ostermeier, W. Mouawad et S. Biographie Nicolas Bouchaud Nicolas Bouchaud. Biographie Solal Bouloudnine.

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Biographie Marthe Fieschi. Biographie Liliane Giraudon. Biographie Nidhal Guiga. Il est dramaturge et romancier. Depuis il collabore entre autre avec :. Biographie Eugen Jebeleanu. Depuis , il signe l'ensemble des architectures sonores du collectif Zirlib. Biographie Kevin Keiss. Biographie Julien Lacroix. Biographie Leilani Lemmet Leilani Lemmet. Biographie Sabine Macher. Biographie Moreau. Biographie David Paquet. Biographie Augustin Passard. Association Perspective Nevski. Biographie Charles Pennequin. Biographie Eric Pessan.

Biographie Groupe Petrol. She performs and directs her last play, Poings , together with a circus-maker and a composer for the international circus festival SPRING Biographie Patrick Pineau Patrick Pineau. Pier Lorenzo Pisano nasce a Napoli nel Studia a Venezia, laureandosi in Conservazione dei beni culturali.

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Lorenzo Favia. See More. Information about Page Insights Data. Si tu avais moins peur, tu ne ferais plus d'ombre sur tes pas.

avance en pleine eau

Philippe Jaccottet. Tear these shadows finally as rags, Dressed in shitbags, fake beggar, runner of shrouds: Singer Death at a distance is ashamed, To be afraid when it takes place is enough. Now now Dress up with a sun fur and get out Like a hunter against the wind, crossed Like a fresh and fast water your life.

If you were less afraid, You wouldn't shadow on your steps anymore. Philippe Jaccottet Translated. Cette nuit, je vois la lune. Auteur anonyme Last night my little cabin Has completely burned. Tonight, I see the moon. Anonymous author Translated.

Select Committee Regarding the Risks and Benefits of Hydraulic Fracturing

I was learning that poetry is an act, An incantation, A kiss of peace, A medicine. I was learning that poetry is one of the few things in the world Who can take it over the cold and hate. I hadn't been taught that. My friends themselves are often wrong: They don't know what I say when I say: "Light".

When I say "Light", I don't think about bright objects, To the whirlwind of reflections and swings that form the visual universe. I'm hungry for something that wouldn't decrease and don't would, Of a thing that simply wouldn't have an end.

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That thing, without any other word, I'll call it inner life. Jacques Acton, the world starts today. Poetry: a path of "Mercy" moments. I think I wrote poems a bit like the little poucet sows rocks I didn't know too much where I was going But at least I had this suite of meetings, privileged moments Memories too that were like so many bright points I didn't have an overall vision But every time I was doing an experience like this I was thinking that there was a source of light We write the poem so that the light doesn't go out too fast Because these moments of light we know all of them Only they turn off then little by little Well we write the poem to keep a little bit of this light It's like the light on the rocks of the little poucet And then the big surprise is when we turn around And that we see the rest of these rocks Well, we can see that these rocks form a path A path that is slowly moving towards a greater light I think it's that light precisely of mercy And the miracle is that this path we had decided for yourself May finally serve to other There's a kind of little mystery But it's a source of wonder!

Ouaknin See More. Maybe the time has come From a return to the word, From a return to the traveler words, To the words that circulate the joy of being In the lightness and freshness of a carrier dawn Renewed hope of an even higher day, Even more free Ouaknin Translated. La feuille Amie du silence Laisse le vent Parler pour elle. The Leaf Friend of silence Let the wind Talking for her. Where History Raconteurs are always subject to the language And to the modes of existence of the greatest number, The Poets, they, listen to what, in the forms of life that are ours, remains to the state of suffering.

They make a word of everything that our usual language leaves aside: To what we consider to be insignificant, without major interest, Unworthy of notification, Poets pay supreme attention. They know, from a knowledge to their faculty of wonder, From a knowledge that is learned only by pain and sometimes anger, They know that the essential thing is precisely in these pieces that our most useful speeches find out to be non - Poets pick up the rocks that no one wants, The pieces of wood biscornu, Broken toys, Slate, ceramic or tile pieces of which you fill the ruts to facilitate the walk, They listen to what the words say when we stopped making them communication instruments, They listen to what they say when they stop to mean mechanical what they are asked to mean.

They hear the singing of life, in the pure state, With a shine of freshness that we only find there. They make it a poem. It is called poem this attempt to redo a word where the word no longer works or wrong. The poem we read is immersed in our deepest wound and wakes up in us the great thirst: The life we give to our life suddenly cracking under the breath of life seized as in its most immediate state.


Here we are connected to this immense power that we love in secret But who at the same time frightens us Like a fire in which we risk to disappear body and property. The poem takes us to the most believed of our desire to live And He's diving all over us. Beauty is a meeting. Any presence will be by another presence revealed.

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  • Francois Cheng word captured in the parisian metro The silence inside, all at the bottom, at the back-bottom. The silence that is still there, Beyond the confusion, sensations, Beyond the trouble of emotions, Beyond the hustle of thoughts. The essence silence of the presence, Core of consciousness. The silence source of everything, Ultimate Nature of everything, Who is in everything, that contains everything. Silence, origin of life, Space of creation, Place of all the events. Thierry Janssen, listen to the silence inside Translated.

    Roberto Juarroz. Anya fb Our deepest fear is not we are null and incapable Our deepest fear is we are powerfull beyond mesure. Rosalie Halin fb. Continue Reading.

    Les йquipes en prйsence - The teams

    Writing is not forgetting anything the world forgets. It's possible that there's a whole people behind me I always thought that writing was a way to return something to someone to whom it had been stolen: the word and by the word the vision, the dazzling vision of life, that of everyone. My work I've always seen it like this. Especially don't let death write the book.

    Writing is the guardian angel of our lives. She keeps what we don't know how to keep. What is not written is lost like water that falls in sand There is a good silence, it is the one of a candle, it is that of a candle, it is the one of the poems; And then there is a bad silence, it is the one who leaves a wound for a long time made and let it grow. Writing is a principle of breathing and deliverance. My childhood, it was a court, already almost the layout of a page Writing is always going to pick up in the mouth of the fire the pearl of freshness that is there.

    The writing is at its zenith when it illuminates the without-faces.

    Social and Cosmic Disorders

    What we imagine being outside, actually is in it. Loneliness is the deepest bond to others. Loneliness is this school yard in each where we can find each other and play together. The World, it's the classroom. It's not laughing. It's boredom The loneliness I am telling you about is the relaxation, you leave the money, the knowledge, even your trades, you are in the internal naked that is that of the soul.

    Souls are just kids playing. Imagine a school yard where you have nothing left to fear. You only have friends. The school yard I'm talking about is a paper page