Traduit de l’albanais au français par Jusuf Vrioni, puis de cette traduction vers l’anglais par Barbara Bray, Le Palais des rêves d’Ismaïl Kadaré n’est plus disponible en français. Dommage.

Mon séjour en maison de réadaptation cardio-vasculaire devrait se poursuivre jusqu’au 16, avec une connexion internet des plus aléatoires. Ma compagne de chambre aime la télé. Les occasions de lecture sont rares. D’écriture, ne parlons même pas pour l’heure. Mais la santé s’améliore, suite au prochain numéro.

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“Most of them couldn’t read or write, so they came very early in the day so as not to forget their dreams, not even stopping for a drink at a nearby tavern. Each one would tell his story to a drowsy-eyed copyist who cursed both the dream and the dreamer. “God grant us better luck this time!” some could say when they’d finished. There was a time honored legend about some poor wretch who lived in a forgotten byway and whose dream saved the State from a terrible calamity. As a reward the Sovereign summoned him to the capital, received him in his palace, told him to take his choice among the royal treasures, and even offered him one of his nieces in marriage. And so on. “God grant…”, the yokels would repeat as they set off through the mud again, most of them probably heading for the tavern. The copyist would watch them go sardonically, and before they disappeared round the bend in the road he would mark their dreams “Useless”.

Ismail Kadare, The Palace of Dreams, Vintage Books, London

Photo: dans le vieux Jérusalem, 1980