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Aidan Rooney: Bel-Air by Louis-Philippe Dalembert

after the French of Louis-Philippe Dalembert,
translated by Aidan Rooney


i’d have loved to be back then again
on that street with a view of the sea
the masses flock to to channel hope
from the harrowing daily path
those alleys seven times knifed then again then always
to be part of the tight knit gathered round over a sewer cover
to watch as they germinate
the stars no one of us had sown

i’d have loved to see roll on nonstop the run of the gully
that boul chausèt of rags
we raced frantically after to get back perpetual at the tips of our feet
our nasty tussles our hissy fits in tatters
and our sweat-laced laughter
all got from mimicking the black eagle’s takeoff
shattering sometimes
some random hapless evening
against a soft violet palette
plummeting behind the hill
in a crucifix with no name

i loved back then the whole lavish vivace of it
the distant sea right there that pulled on our tongues
the air come nightfall beautiful birthing sleep-alienating esoterics
and the people in their street
carousing at all hours

i’d have loved not to have left that day
the forbidden calvary the nightlife folklorics
of those streets criss-crossing words
where the devil in his frenzy fought his friend and the shadows
and the men the same risible campaign
where our guts staved heroically off noon’s sun assaults
our dreams tied up to the future elsewhere to its frills its glitters
to its corridors slowed under rain and fog

i’d have loved again to be part of the procession
a secret guest at family feasts
inhale full-chest the morning’s first coffee carried by the chink of cups
the smell as it was back then
no more than the smell meandered from outdoors

i’d have loved back then
from that neighborhood
from those loud spoken folk whose words
knew to quiet the funeral hour to solemn for the departed
those people however futilely bent on hope
i’d have loved not to be from this outpost today
persona non grata


Louis-Philippe Dalembert (photo by Olivier Dion)

Louis-Philippe Dalembert (b. Port-au-Prince, Haiti, 1962) has been awarded the 2024 Prix Goncourt for his contribution to poetry in French. Dalembert grew up in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, and emigrated to France in 1986. Much laureated for his novels, most recently Milwaukee Blues (Sabine Wespiesier, 2021), a Prix Goncourt finalist novel prompted by the murder of George Floyd in 2020, Dalembert’s regard sur le monde is both real and nostalgic, jazz-infused melancholy and joy, often inspired by his travels from and returns to youth. Likewise, his poems enchant on first and subsequent readings. In Bel-Air (Transhumances, Riveneuve, 2010) Dalembert snaps a bygone time in place, with its people, from the vantage of the Rue Tiremasse in Port-au-Prince. Full text of the French original can be read HERE

Aidan Rooney (b. Monaghan, Ireland, 1965) teaches at Thayer Academy in Massachusetts. His most recent poetry collection is Go There (Madhat Press, 2020) and his translation of Emmelie Prophète’s novel, Les Villages de Dieu (Mémoires d’Encrier, 2020), will appear in English as Cécé (Archipelago Books, 2025). 

5 comments on “Aidan Rooney: Bel-Air by Louis-Philippe Dalembert

  1. rosemaryboehm
    June 8, 2024

    The poems takes me back to a life I’ve never known. The notalgia gets under my skin. Wonderful poem.

    “i’d have loved again to be part of the procession
    a secret guest at family feasts
    inhale full-chest the morning’s first coffee carried by the chink of cups
    the smell as it was back then
    no more than the smell meandered from outdoors”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. laureannebosselaar
    June 8, 2024

    Ahhhh such nostalgia, such images. I love this poem!

    Liked by 1 person

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