Quelques photos de New York


Les rues typiques de NY: les taxis jaunes, la fumée sortant du sol...
Empire State Building la nuit
Vue du 88ème étage...étourdissant, dans le ciel, les lumières des avions attérissant à Kennedy airport.
Rockfeller Center, le soir des élections présidentielles Bush-Gore
Times Square
Empire State, vu du Madison Square Garden
Rockfeller Center, le soir des élections présidentielles Bush-Gore
La statue d'Atlas, sur la 5ème avenue, à côté du Rockfeller Center et non loin de la Cathédrale Saint-Patrick.
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Deux poèmes de Walt Whithman (Long Island, New York)

Beat! beat! drums!-blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows-through doors-burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet-no happiness must he have now with his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums-so shrill you bugles blow.

Beat! beat! drums!-blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities-over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers' bargains by day-no brokers or speculators -would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums-you bugles wilder blow.

Beat! beat! drums!-blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley-stop for no expostulation, Mind not the timid-mind not the weeper or prayer, Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child's voice be heard, nor the mother's entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump
O terrible drums-so loud you bugles blow.
- - - -- - - -- - -- -- - -- -- --- - - -- -- -- -
C'en est fini du terrible voyage, ô mon capitaine,
Essuyés tous les grains, remportés tous les gains par notre vaisseau,
Le but est proche, sonnent les cloches, la foule en liesse.
Suite la lisse, audacieuse et droite, glisse la quille;
Mais saigne rouge, ô mon cœur, Mon pauvre, pauvre, cœur,
Sur le pont, où mon capitaine est couché, cadavre froid et raide.
Debout ! mon capitaine, entends les clochent,
Lèves-toi, c'est pour toi que claquent ces flammes,
Pour toi que trillent les clairons. Pour toi ces banquets, ces tresses, ces couronnes, Et ce rivage noir de monde,
Qui t'acclame, cette fluctuante masse, ces visages anxieux.
Ecoute-les, petit père, écoute-moi, Je passe mes bras sous ta nuque !
Non, c'est un rêve tu n'est pas mort.
Tu n'es ni raide ni froid sur ce pont !
Mais Lui ne répond pas, ses lèvres demeurent pâles,
Il ne sent pas mon bras, mon père,
Et son pouls ne bat plus.
Sagement à l'ancre, route terrible accomplie,
Son vaisseau au but, la victoire est acquise.
Rivages exultez! Cloches résonnez !
D'un pas de feutre, pour moi, pour moi je foule le pont
Où l'on a étendu le cadavre,
Mon capitaine raidi par la mort.

O Captain! My Captain! O Captain!
My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning:
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse or will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won:
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.