Nous vivions sur un iceberg. Depuis des siècles. Un iceberg grand comme un, deux, cinq continents. Un iceberg si établi, si vénérable qu’au fil des siècles, des couches de poussière s’étant accumulées dessus, une végétation s’y était établie. On y vivait bien, sur cet iceberg. On y avait des règles – certains les enfreignaient parfois, on les grondait pour ça, et les choses reprenaient leur cours.

Et puis, un jour, l’eau s’étant réchauffée, la base de l’iceberg a commencé à s’éroder et l’iceberg s’est mis à pencher, de plus en plus. Maintenant, il fait mine de basculer complètement, alors évidemment, on s’énerve, on panique, on nie même carrément, “mais non, mais non, c’est juste une illusion !”

ça va très mal. Les mieux nantis parlent de quitter l’iceberg, d’en coloniser un autre; d’autres se font construire des yachts sur lesquels ils comptent vivre, dorénavant. Certains deviennent bringuezingues, d’autres ne demanderaient pas mieux de l’être aussi, question de ne plus penser à rien.

Ça va mal, et comme le dit l’homme dans le poème de Seamus Heaney,

“I know I know I know I know …

‘but you have to try to make sense of what comes.

Remember everything and keep your head.”

Seamus Heaney, Station Island

*

We were living on an iceberg. For centuries. An iceberg as big as one, two, five continents. An iceberg so well established, so ancient that, over the course of centuries, layers of dust had accumulated on it, vegetation had thrived. We lived well on this iceberg. There were rules – some broke them at times, were scolded for it, and things settled back into their usual course.

Then, one day, the water having warmed up, the base of the iceberg started eroding and the iceberg started tilting harder and harder. It showed signs of tipping over completely, so of course, people got excited, panicky, some denied it all completely, “of course not, of course not, this is just an illusion !”

things are going very poorly. The better off talk about leaving the iceberg, colonizing another one; others are having yachts built for themselves where they intend to live from now on. Others still go stark raving mad, while others only wish they could do as much, so as to no longer think about a thing.

Things are going badly, and as the man says in Seamus Heaney’s poem

“I know I know I know I know …

‘but you have to try to make sense of what comes.

Remember everything and keep your head.”

Seamus Heaney, Station Island