Seventh Symphony in words, continued







Here are the early morning birds, drowning the end of a storm, "it is our reward, enjoy these first moments...

Child, say, child, what is the matter ? I am looking, there are no frightening shadows, no threats, nothing, please, child, look at me", his face strained, "tell me, I do not understand", his eyes impassive, "I beg you, come back to me, tell me that you see me, that you trust me, that I can do something for you, although I know nothing about you;






you must stand up, do you hear, face up. You are looking for a lost happiness, do not think of it, do not listen to yourself. Gather your strength, grab my energy, fill yourself with my rage, they are yours, take them!"













































 A bird celebrates the day, the child is indifferent, stiffed in his mutism.

Delicate breeze in the trees, this morning, I was glad, I thought that he was finished with his fears, wrong; I had thought that I had been useful, at last, I have to give it up.
 I remember, as I was myself a child, I had called, I, also, had longed for love,  without finding it. I know of his thirst, he does not believe in me, although I was like him; I hold him in my arms, I feel him put his little hands on me, yes, he understands.

Confidence spreads inside of us, we are now two children gazing upon our new world.

We are sitting side by side, drained, facing the fresh sky.

He holds my hand, tiny pressure, hope rises and renews us.

The child that I was has come back to me, his little hand is mine indeed, our joined hands will not betray us, with them, we have the strength to believe that today, tomorrow we shall keep this will of life, and that it will be shared. This morning, it is possible, it is just up to a child's breath.

"Sleep, be peaceful let your sleep lead you." Cradled, he slightly leans towards me, there is nothing but his quiet breath. He is asleep; now you can come out, old fancies. You are getting closer, I feel you circling around me. I will not run away.
 Close to me, can you see him, lies a child whom sleep I protect, and you will not wake him up.

You whirl, now, to have me waver. Already, you condemn us, but your circle blurs, the child is still asleep. I, simple mortal, resisted, I who feels the pain !

Shadows wander about and are still to be defeated. They are still around our fears, it makes us want to stand, forces us to battle, in confusion, awaiting, confrontation, hope, sorrow, apprehension, invocation, so the child does not see, and keeps on dreaming.

 He knows enough to carry on with life where I will have left it. Our both existences now bound fill me with determination, joy, serenity.







Spectre, you also are with us, you follow our road, fellow traveller. This child knows who you are, he shall take my place. For now, in his sleep, he has forgotten you. But be sure that I hear you. His time shall come, so shall his turn. His breath is my hope, his life is my relief, my child.


Jean-Christophe Le Toquin

July 1998


Translation Michel Apfeld 1999

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      Text with detailed timing

      Pictures, ca 2000

           Jean-Christophe Le Toquin

           Nathalie Filloux "Here are the early morning birds"

           RaphaŽl Filloux "The twisted tree"