only glance!
And the shelter of your light
no more theatre,
laughter is now mine,
no more illusion,
when everything becomes
like angels chanting.
immediately transparent,
It soothes my wounded heart.
And all, all is forgotten..!
The day that you shall love me
visible, exposed
the roses that regale us
in the raw and inexorable light
will wear their party dresses
of information and communication.
with all their brightest hues.
And... We no longer partake of the seven winds,
the drama of alienation,
the tolling bells
proclaim you to be mine now;
but
crazily, every fountain...
in the ecstasy of communication...
and, Thus alienation
will talk about your love.
gives way
The night that you shall love me
to obscene ecstasy.
This obscenity is no longer
from the deepest blue of heaven
the galaxies "hot" and "sexual" with
envy
will watch us as we stroll;
and a mysterious but rather "cool" aura
will nest upon your head crown,
like an exotic and "communicational" glow-worm
The need to speak, revealing... you,
my only consolation!
The day that you shall love me
even if one has nothing to say,
there will be naught
but music; becomes more pressing
the dawn will bloom with brightness
when one has nothing to say,
as a joyous mountain spring;
the slight breeze will sing to us
just as the will to live
with a melodious murmur,
becomes more urgent
and all the founts will offer us
when life has lost its meaning...
their sparkling crystal song.
The day that you shall love me
That's the ecstasy
the songbird of communication.
will pluck his sweetest strings;
All secrets, spaces and scenes
abolished life everywhere
will bloom, in a single dimension of
information.
and pain will cease to be...
The night that you shall love obscenity.
That's me
from the deepest blue of heaven
The hot, sexual obscenity of
the
galaxies
with envy former times
is succeeded by the cold will
watch us as we stroll,
and a mysterious and communicational, aura
will nest upon your head crown,
like an exotic contactual and motivational
glow-worm
revealing... you,
obscenity of today...
my only consolation!
* All text in italics are from my translation
of the song "El Día que me Quieras" by Carlos Gardel and Alfredo Lepera (1934).
All other text is by Jean Baudrillard, from L'autre par lui-meme, Paris: Editions Galilee (1987);
translated by Bernard and Caroline Schutze as The Ecstasy of Communication, NY: Semiotext(e) (1988); and from Please
Follow Me with Sophie Calle, Seattle: Bay
Press (1983, 1988). "What Are You Doing After the Orgy?" In Artforum (October 1983) in "The Ecstasy of
Communication," translated by John Johnston in Hal Foster, ed., In The
Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture, Port Townsend, WA: Bay Press (1983).